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T. S. DENISON & COMPANY. 154 W. Randolph St.. Chicago 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 



A COMEDY DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 

KATHARINE KAVANAUGH 

AUTHOR OF 

Who's a Cozvard,'' ''Countess Kate,'' "^ Minister Pro Tern, 

''The Queen of Diamonds,''' "When the 

Worm Turned,^' Etc. 



CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 

Publishers 

c 1*^1 3 •? 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 

CHARACTERS. f\ <g(^ Li G 

Bruce McCulloch JC?] d The Man 

David Joyce Clare's Father 

Dick Warren Edith's Brother 

Oscar Weber A Village Swain 

Old John Gardener and Sexton 

Sleepy Heine Sara's Grandson 

Williams Valet to Bruce 

Clare Joyce The Girl 

Edith Warren An Heiress 

Sara TJie Old Housekeeper 

Mrs. Weber A Neighbor 

Little Elsie Sara's Granddaughter 

Mrs. Holt 

Mrs. Wagner. . . . 
Minnie Wagner. 
Sophie Barton. . 
TiLLiE Hoffman. 

Note. — The neighbors have only a few lines. 



Neighbors 



Place — A Small Nezv England Town. 



Time — Summer. 



Time of Playing — About Two Hours. 



Act I — Kitchen in Home of Clare Joyce Love 

Act n — Scene I : Clare's Garden . .Jealousy 

Scene H : The Way to Church .... Humiliation 

Act hi — Bruce McCulloch's. Rooms Accusation 

Act IV — Same as Act l:.\ Happiness 

Notice — Production of this play is free to amateurs, but the sole 
professional rights are reserved by the Publishers. 

copyright, 1913, BY EBEN H. NORRIS. 

2 
©CID 34079 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 3 

SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM. 

Act I — Mrs. Weber insists on the marriaj^e between 
Oscar and Clare. "This has got to be settled one way or 
the other." Clare meets Miss Warren. The letter. Oscar 
finds the letter. ''Clare Joyce is my affianced wife." 'Tf you 
come near me I'll kill you !" 

Act II — Scene I : Old John and the flowers. Miss Warren 
finds Clare and Bruce together. Jealousy. The blow. *T'll 
make you sorry for this !" Scene II : Going to chapel. The 
love letter. Miss Warren and Oscar come to an agreement. 
"You'll never be able to hold up your head again." Hu- 
miliation. 

Act III — Bruce unhappy. "I was playing wnth fire and 
I got my fingers burnt." An unexpected visitor. "Our 
engagement is at an end." Bruce proposes. The midnight 
marriage. 

Act IV — The next morning. Breakfast. "Clare is not 
here." Mrs. Weber's story. "Your prayers and tears come 
too late." Bruce interrupts. "Clare Joyce is my wife." 
Happiness. 

CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES. 

Clare Joyce — A girl of eighteen, sweet and appealing 
in speech and manner. Should wear ankle-length dresses of 
soft shade of blue or gray, simply made. She may change 
her dress from Act I to Act II, but from then on she must 
wear the same, as she is not supposed to have an opportu- 
nity to change. In the second scene of Act II, on the w-ay 
to church, and in Acts II and IV, she should wear a long 
cloak of a shade to match her gown. 

David Joyce — A man of fifty-five or sixty. Mild and sin- 
cere in manner. He wears plain dark clothes. His general 
make-up suggests the well-to-do farmer. 

Sara — The old housekeeper, is a woman of fifty or sixty, 
iron gray or gray hair. She is not cross or ugly in manner, 
only fussy and talkative. A full skirt and basque or a house 
wrapper with large white apron. 

Little Elsie — May be played by a child between seven 
and nine years, dressed in gingham frock and apron. 



4 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Sleepy Heine — A boy of sixteen or seventeen, carelessly 
dressed in old trousers and striped shirt and sundown. 

Mrs. Weber — A woman of forty or forty-five, overbear- 
ing and dictatorial. Wears plain, severe clothes of a dark 
color, her hat or bonnet a little out of date. 

Oscar Weber — A country boy of twenty years. Like his 
mother in manner and speech. He wears store clothes, badly 
cut and ill-fitting. 

Old John — A man of sixty years, very old and gray, 
with gentle, benevolent expression. He wears plain old 
clothes, slightly stained with earth, a soft old shirt and soft 
hat. 

Edith Warren — A girl of twenty. A village girl who 
has had the advantage of education and travel. Act I : She 
wears a becoming riding habit, carries a small whip. Acts H, 
HI and IV, she wears a pretty summer gown and hat. 

Dick Warren — A lively, likeable chap of twenty-three 
or twenty-five years. Act I : He wears riding togs. Acts H 
and IV : He wears an up-to-date suit ; dresses tastefully. 

Bruce McCulloch — A good-looking young man of 
twenty-five, well bred and well dressed. Act I, wears riding 
togs. Acts III and IV, wears an. up-to-date suit. He looks 
and acts the gentleman. 

Williams — A young man of twenty-five or thirty, quiet 
and respectful in manner; dressed in the regulation ser- 
vant's livery. 

Mrs. Holt and Mrs. Wagner — Women of forty years, 
very gossipy and dressed a little behind the times. 

Minnie Wagner, Sophie Barton and Tillie Hoff- 
man — Are girls of seventeen or eighteen years. Their 
dresses are made of cheap material and out of date. 

STORY OF THE PLAY. 

Clare Joyce is a motherless girl of eighteen, the daughter 
of a New England farmer. Their closest neighbors are the 
Webers, mother and son. the latter of whom is betrothed 
to Clare 4:hrough an early understanding of the parents. 
Clare dislikes Oscar \\^eber and she falls in love with a 
stranger, Bruce McCulloch, a young man who is spending 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 5 

the summer in the neighborhood. They meet one day by 
chance, afterward by design. Bruce is reported to be en- 
gaged to Edith Warren, also a neighbor," whose father has 
become wealthy. The Webers and others become aware of 
the friendship between Clare and Bruce and gossip 'about it. 
until one day Mrs. Weber and her son call on David Joyce, 
Clare's father, to put a stop to it and hasten the marriage 
of Clare and Oscar. 

Clare is a sweet, innocent girl, who has never been a 
hundred miles away from the little town in which she was 
born. At Bruce's request she writes him a letter — a love 
letter — as pure and sweet as herself. By accident this letter 
falls into Oscar's hands, and he uses it to humiliate Clare 
by placing it on the door of the chapel or meeting house. 
Clare is amazed to find her foolish little letter in such a 
conspicuous place and Oscar, urged on by Edith Warren, 
tries to convince her that it is the work of Bruce. They 
insult and taunt her with what the neighbors are saying 
about her. Believing that Bruce is guilty, she innocently 
goes to his house that evening to tell him that he must never 
come to her father's home and that she will never see or 
speak to him again. Bruce is astonished to find the letter 
has been lost and finally convinces Clare that he knew 
nothing about it. At this point Oscar W^eber and Edith 
Warren arrive and demand an entrance. Oscar has been 
following Clare to learn something he could use against her. 
He had promised Miss Warren to let her know if he ever 
found Clare and Bruce together again, so when he sees 
Clare entering Bruce's gate, he gets Edith. Bruce, hearing 
their voices at the door, hides Clare behind the heavy win- 
dow curtains. He denies that Clare is there, but Oscar 
suspects and is stealthily making his way to the window 
when \\'illiams, Bruce's servant, throws him aside. Edith is 
convinced that Clare is secreted in the room and breaks her 
engagement with Bruce. Bruce is happy to have it so, 
because it makes him free to tell Clare of his love. After 
disposing of Oscar and Edith, he proposes to Clare that 
she marry him that night in order to quiet the gossips in 
the morning. He has a college friend in the next town 
who is a minister, and ordering Williams to get the autonio- 



6 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

bile, they drive to his friend's and are married, with the 
minister's wife and Williams as witnesses. 

David Joyce knows nothing of Clare's absence until the 
next morning, when the Webers and Miss Warren come to 
tell him of last night'^ happenings. At this moment Bruce 
returns with his wife and both are quickly forgiven when 
David hears the true story. The Webers and Miss Warren 
are disappointed at the turn of affairs and depart in anger. 
The table is spread and a happy family sit down to a 
joyous wedding breakfast. 

LIST OF PROPERTIES. 

Act I — Small unlighted lamp. A number of small potted 
plants. A letter for Bruce (without envelope). Loaf of 
bread. Knife. Jar of molasses. Several dishes on side- 
board. A tin basin and towel for Sara. A sprig of rose- 
mary or any small flower for Bruce. 

Act II — Scene I : Watering pot for John. Book for 
Clare. Book for Bruce. Scene II : Church bell off stage. 
Lantern and keys for John. Small prayerbooks for girls. 
Letter for Oscar. Organ off stage. 

Act III — Books and magazines on table. Cigars, matches, 
decanter, tray and glasses. Bell to be rung off stage. Letter 
(the same as used in Act I) for Clare. 

Act IV — Dishes for table. Number of plates for Heine. 
Pound cake and bottle of wine. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means right of the stage; C, center; R. C, right cen- 
ter; L., left; 1 E., first entrance; U. E., upper entrance; 
R. 3 E., right entrance, up-stage, etc. ; D. P., door of flat 
or back of the stage ; up stage away from footlights, down 
stage, near footlights. The actor is supposed to be facing 
the audience. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 



STAGE SETTINGS 

ACT I AND IV. 



1 

Door 



Sideboard 



A Garden Drop Curtain 

— I ~r - 

Broad Low Window 



Door 



Tire-Place 



Chair n 



Chair D I [ Table 



NOTE:— In Act IV the table and chairs are R. C. 
ACT II. SCENE I. 



Landscape Backing 



Wood Wings 



Cluster of 
Flowers 



Flowers 



Set House 



Garden Bench [_ 



Wood Wings 

Wood Wings 
J Wood Wings 



NOTE: — For cluster of flowers, set a number of small potted 
plants together and lay grassmats close up to cover the pots. Get 
as manj' flowers in this scene as possible. While a set cottage will, 
of course, add to the effect, yet it is not absolutely necessary, and in 
case one is not used all entrances and exits marked "door of house" 
should be made "R. 2, E." 



ACT II. SCENE II. 



Landscape Backing 



Wood Wings 



Wood Wings 



Wood Wings 
Wood Wings 



Wood Wings 
Wood Wings 



NOTE: — To make quick change, simply move off set house, bench 
and flowers from Scene I. Leave same backing and wings. 



ACT III. 



Book Case 



Broad Low Window 
With Portierres 



Sideboard 



V 



Table 



Chair O 



Chair D I I DChai 



Door 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 



Act. I. 

Kitchen in home of Clare Joyce. Broad loiv zvindow C. 
Doors R. U . E. and L, U . E. Fireplace down R. Sideboard 
up R. Table and chair dozvn stage L. C. Chair R. On side- 
board are a number of dishes, a loaf of bread, a jar of mo- 
lasses, a knife. Back of window in C. is placed a low plat- 
form on which are set a number of potted plants, geraniums, 
etc. There is left a space in C. of platform for Clare's en- 
trance. At the window are hung long muslin curtains. See 
Scene Plot for stage setting. 

Curtain rises on Heine, seated at table L. asleep and 
snoring. Old John is heard singing softly back of stage, 
supposedly in his garden. Bright music by the orchestra 
until curtain is well up. 

Enter Sara R. U. E., carries a small unlighted lafup, 
crosses and places it on table. She shakes Heine to zvaken 
him. 

Sara. Heine, wake up. This is no place to sleep — and in 
the middle of the afternoon. Go to bed, you lazy boy, and 
sleep your head off, but get out of my kitchen. 

Heine {rouses for a second, yazvns and stretches). Aw, 
lemme alone. (Gets into a more comfortable position and 
sleeps.) 

Sara. I will not leave you alone if I have to shake you 
to pieces. (SJiakes him roughly.) Get out now, when I tell 
you — you hear me? (Pushes him and lie rolls on the floor, 
zvhere he contentedly goes to sleep. Sara hears Johs^ sing- 
ing in the garden.) And there is another nuisance — him 
and his flowers. (Sees plants in the window.) And if he 
ain't gone and put some in that window again when I have 
told him a thousand times he shouldn't. I will show him 
who is boss here. (Goes angrily to window and pushes 

8 



UXDER BLUE SKIES 9 

floivers off. one after another, speaking to John through 
the zvindozv.) There, you old numbskull — there are your old 
weeds. Don't you dare put them in this window ag"ain. Do 
you hear me? 

John {outside). Oh, Sara — my pretty geraniums. 

Sara {imitating him). Oh, Sara, my pretty geraniums. 
Who cares for your old geraniums. They are no more use 
in the world than you are — you old time-waster. {Turns 
doz^'n stage, stops suddenly on seeing Heine asleep on the 
floor.) Bless my soul and body, if he ain't gone to sleep 
again. {Takes Heine by the shoulder, hauling him to his 
feet.) Now, I tell you for the last time, get out of my 
kitchen. {Gives him a push toivard L, U. E. Heine falls 
up against the door and goes to sleep there. Sara calls 
loudly.) Heine! 

Heine {stretches and yazvns.) Aw, lemme alone. {Exits 
sleepily L. U. E.) 

Sara. \\^ell, this would be a queer house if it wasn't for 
old Sara. There is the master always shut up in his room 
like a hermit with his books There is old John without a 
thought for anything in the world but his flowers. And 
there is Clare running wild and doing just as she likes. 
{Sighs.) Well, well, she will be married soon, and then 
things will change. 

Enter Little Elsie L. U. E., runs to Sara, tugs at her 
apron. 

Elsie. Gramma, give me piece bread wit lasses. 

Sara. What — another! Where did you put it all? 

Elsie {her hand on stomach). In here. 

Sara {shaking her head). I don't believe it; there is not 
room. {Gives Elsie a piece of bread from the sideboard.) 
Here. Now run away and play. 

Elsie {looks at the bread). But me want lasses on it. 

Sara {takes bread and spreads molasses on it). You 
want lasses on it? Yes. you eat the bread and leave the 
lasses all over my kitchen. Here. then. {Gives Elsie tJie 
bre'ad.) Now go away and don't bother me. (Elsie takes 
the bread and runs tozvard L. U. E.). Here. What do you 
say? 



10 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Elsie (turns at door). Thank you, Gramma. (Exits 
L. U. E.) 

Sara. Seven times a day does that child eat. And she 
is so Httle- — nobody would believe it. 

Enter Old John L. U. E. zvith a broken flozver pot in 
his hand. 

John. See what you have done, Sara. My pretty gera- 
nium is all crushed and broken, and my lovely wax plant. 
(Holding out the other flozver.) It will never bloom again. 

Sara. Oh, what do I care — such a fuss about a poor 
flower. 

John. It is not a poor flower, Sara. There is none so 
welcome in the summertime. See, it is like a little child's 
face, always smiling; and see this one, all misty pink as if 
it were blushing at its own loveliness. 

Sara {throzvs up her hands in disgust). I don't under- 
stand such nonsense, and I won't listen to it. You can save 
that for Clare. She bothers me enough about old John's 
garden. 

John. Clare. Ah, yes, she calls it Old John's garden; 
but the trees and flowers know better. They watch for her 
and nod their heads in greeting as she walks among them. 

Sara (going tozvard R. U. E.). I never heard such fool- 
ishness in all my life. All I got to say is, keep your old 
flowers out of my kitchen. (Exit R. U. E.) 

John. My poor little pets. What will Clare say? 

Clare (calls off stage). John! Oh, John, where are you? 

John (anszvers through the zvindow.) Here, Clare. I 
am here. 

Enter Clare through lozv zvindozv C. 

Clare. Ah, there you are. T saw you from the road, 
but when I entered the garden — pouf — you were gone. 

John. I came to speak to Sara. See what she has done 
to my poor flowers. 

Clare. Oh, John, they are killed. How could anyone 
kill such a beautiful thing. 

John. Every one does not love flowers like you and me, 
Clare. Besides, I wanted to keep all my flowers fresh and 
beautiful, because soon these old hands will be ringing the 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 11 

joybells for your wedding, and the flowers must be ready 
to do their part, too. 

Clare. If you mean Oscar Weber, John, you will never 
ring those bells for me. His mother has told everyone in 
town there will be a wedding soon. I can see the women 
watching me and whispering about it. I don't like Oscar 
and I don't like Mrs. Weber. 

John. Oscar is a good lad — and his land adjoins your 
father's. When the old folks are gone you will inherit the 
double property. It is a good match. 

Clare. John, ain't you ashamed. Is that a reason for 
marrying? Oscar W^eber is selfish and cruel. When we 
were children I have seen him beat his dog until the poor 
beast was almost dead. I am afraid of such a man, and I 
will never marry him. 

John. You speak with the wisdom of a child, Clare. It 
has been settled since you were children that you two were 
to marry. This is a spiall place, Clare. Everyl)ody takes an 
interest in everybody else's business. Do you know what 
they are gossiping about now? The stranger who comes 
here so often. 

Clare. Mr. McCulloch? How do they know? 

John. How do they know anything? They watch and 
wait and listen. There is not much that escapes them. Only 
yesterday Mrs. Weber asked me what brings him here so 
often. 

Clare. What did you tell her, John? 

John. I told her I had not thought to ask him. 

Clare. He just comes to see the flowers, John, ^'ou 
know that, don't you ? 

John. Yes — but they would not believe me if I told them 
that. Have you told your father about him? 

Clare. Is it necessary to tell my father if a gentleman 
stops at the gate and asks for a glass of water? 

John. Maybe not. But if that same gentleman conies 
the second and third time — perhaps the father ought to 
know, Clare. 

Enter Heine. L. U. E. 

Heine. Say, Clare. Mrs. ^^'eber and that handsome son 



12 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

of hers is goin' to pay you a visit. He pushed me away 
from the gate with his foot. If I wasn't so tired I'd have 
let him know who he was kickin'. (Yawns and sits on 
zvindozv ledge and goes to sleep.) 

Clare. Oh, John, I am going to run away and hide. 
Don't you tell them. {Exit R. U. E.) 

John. There it is. She runs away and leaves Old John 
to face the Webers. 

Enter Mrs. Weber, follozved by Oscar, L. U. E. 

Mrs. Weber. Where is David Joyce. I want to speak 
to him on important business. 

John. He is in his study, I guess, with his books — where 
he always is. 

Mrs. Weber. Well, tell him I am here. I haven't got all 
day to wait. In his study with his books. He should be 
keeping an eye on his household and his daughter. 

John. What do you mean, Mrs. Weber? 

Mrs. Weber. That's all right, what I mean. Who is the 
strange man that comes here almost every day and occu- 
pies so much of his daughter's time — his daughter who is 
to marry my son. That's what I want to know. 

Oscar {coming dozvn stage). I know who he is, mother. 
He's the fellow who has rented Mr. Seabury's place for the 
summer, and he is supposed to be engaged to Mr. Warren's 
daughter, Edith. 

Mrs. Weber. What ! Why she is an heiress — and still he 
comes here almost every day to see Clare. Now, I ask you, 
what does it mean? 

John. Only that he is interested in Old John's garden 
and comes to see the flowers. 

]\Irs. Weber {loudly\. What! (Heine falls out through 
the ivindozv.) You tell me such a fairy tale as that? Go 
and tell David Joyce I want to see him. There's no use 
wasting time on you. 

John (going to R. U. E.). I knew you would not believe 
it. I told you Clare would not believe it. (Exit R. U. E.) 

Mrs. Weber. Now, Oscar, we will see what is what. 
This marriage shall take place at once or we will find the 
reason why. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 13 

Oscar. Yes, Clare is getting herself talked about. Just 
wait. It will be different when we are married. 

Mrs. Weber. Yes, it will be different.- When she is my 
daughter-in-law I will take a hand. 

Enter Sara R. U. E. 

Mrs. Weber. Well, Sara, I am glad somebody is show- 
ing their face. Is everybody asleep or dead? Where is 
Clare? 

Sara. I don't know. 

Mrs. Weber. You don't know! Well, I don't like to 
express my opinion, but this is a funny house. Nobody 
ever knows where that girl is. The trouble is, she has been 
raised foolish. While every other girl in the village was 
taught to cook and keep house, she runs wild. 

Sara. Clara is as smart as the rest. \\'hy should she 
keep house when I am still here? 

Mrs. Weber. She should be taught. I don't want a use- 
less doll for my son's wife. 

Sara. Then don't let your son marry her. She won't 
mind. 

Mrs. Weber. That's all right. It was understood years 
ago that they should marry. That is what I have come for 
today. Clare is getting herself talked about, and you should 
put a stop to it. Why do you allow that stranger to be here 
so much? Don't you know no good will come of it? 

Sara. But he is such a gentleman. 

Mrs. Weber. Gentleman. They are the worst. 

Sara. But he is such a nice man. Mrs. \\'eber. 

Mrs. Weber. The nice men are the most dangerous. It 
ain't right; that's all I got to say. What is his name? 

Oscar. His name is McCulloch. 

Mrs. Weber. I tell you, Sara, he needs watching. I 
know what I am talking about. 

Enter Davild Joyce, R. U. E. 

David. Good morning, Mrs. Weber. What is it you wish 
to see me about? 

Mrs. Weber. Clare's marriage to my son. Oscar. It is 
time to settle this affair. We are both getting old and I 
should like to see it before I die. 



14 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

David. I have no objection to the marriage if Clare is 
wiUing. She has no mother, Mrs. Weber. I will not force 
her. 

Mrs. Weber. There you are wrong. All children should 
be forced to do what is for their own interest. Where will 
your daughter find a better husband? I don't deny that it 
is a good thing for my boy also. Our two properties lie 
together, and v/hen we are gone it will be a fine inheritance 
for them both. 

David. If it will make my child happy, that is all I ask. 
Somehow I have not learned the way to my daughter's 
heart. Age is so far away from youth that one forgets the 
way back sometimes. 

Mrs. Weber. Where is the girl now? 

David. I have not seen her today. 

Mrs. Weber. Well, send her to me this afternoon and 
I will have a talk with her. This thing has got to be settled 
one way or the other. (Goes to L. U. E.) 

Oscar. It can only be settled one way — Clare belongs 
to me. 

David. I will speak to her and she shall decide for her- 
self. 

Mrs. Weber. Come, Oscar; we will see, we will see. 
(Both exit L. U. E.) 

Clare (peeping through R. U. E.) Are they gone? 

Sara. Ah, so you were hiding, were you? 

David. You know what they came for, Clare? 

Clare (comes to David). Yes, father. 

David. Will it make you happy, little one? Do you love 
him ? 

Clare. I love you, father, and Sara, and old John — and 
I will stay here with you, if you please. 

Sara. The child is mad. Don't listen to her. It is the 
best match in town, and she says, 'T will stay here, if you 
please." Do you want to be an old maid? 

David. The child shall say no if she. wishes, Sara. 

Enter Heine, L. U. E. 

Heine. Say, there's been an accident out on the road. 
Sara (excited). An accident. My heavens, what is it? 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 15 

Heine. That Miss Warren fell oft' her horse and broke 
her neck. 

David. God have mercy — that is terrible! 

Sara. Oh, that is awful! Can it be true? 

Heine. Well, she sprained her ankle, anyhow. 

Sara. Sprained her ankle — is that all? 

Heine. Well, did you want her to get killed? You ain't 
never satisfied. 

Clare. Heine, what is the trouble? 

Heine. That's all. She fell oft' her horse right by our 
gate. Mr. McCulloch and her brother are bringing her in 
here. 

Clare. Mr. McCulloch is with her? 

Heine. Yes. 

Enter Bruce, L. U. E. 

Bruce. I am sorry to trouble you, but Miss Warren has 
met with a slight accident, and she begs to be allowed to 
rest here until a carriage can be sent for. 

David. By all means. I hope it is nothing very serious. 

Bruce. A slightly twisted ankle, I presume. It doesn't 
seem to be serious. 

Sara. Go, Clare, heat some water. (Clare exits R. U. 
E.) And I will get some bandages. (Exit R. U. E.) 

David. I will go help the child. (Exits R. U. E.) 

Enter Dick z^'ith Edith leaning on his arm, L. U. E. 

Dick. May we come in? 

Bruce. Yes, these good people have made us welcome. 
(Dick brings Edith dozen L. She sits at table. She limps 
as she zealks). 

Dick. So this is where you pursue your botanical studies, 
eh? 

Bruce. Don't be flippant, Dick. I accidentally stopped 
here one day for a glass of spring water. I found the place 
so picturesque and the people so entertaining that I came 
again. 

Edith. And still again. Are you aware that you are the 
subject of gossip among the village people? 

Bruce. No ; T had no idea T was so interesting. 



16 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Edith, You are interesting in so far as you are a 
stranger among them and different from themselves. 

Bruce. But, then, so are you and Dick different. 

Edith. True, but we have lived among them long 
enough for the novelty to have worn off. 

Dick. And now you come along — open up your friend 
Seabury's place — and offer them new food for gossip. 

Bruce. But what can they find to say? 

Edith. They say, for one thing, that you are too fre- 
quent a visitor at this house. I stopped at the postoffice 
yesterday afternoon for the mail, and there was quite a 
discussion going on when I drove up, in which your name 
and mine were frequently mentioned. They did not see me 
until I was quite upon them — then there was a sudden hush, 
but very eloquent glances. 

Bruce. Oh, it all seems very ridiculous and childish. 
Why should I not come here if I like? 

Edith. Why have you never brought me here with you? 

Bruce. I — I didn't think you'd care for it. 

Enter Sara R. U. E., carries a basin of water and a 
bandage, crosses to Edith, places basin on floor. 

Sara (to Edith) Put your foot out, please. 

Edith. My good woman, what are you about to do? 

Sara. I will take off your shoe and bathe the ankle. 
That is good for a bad ankle. 

Edith. You'll do nothing of the sort. Take that water 
away before I upset it. Bruce, did you send anyone for the 
carriage ? 

Bruce. Yes; Ell go see if they're coming. (Exit L. 
U.E.) 

Edith. Yes, do. The sooner I get out of here the better. 
(To Sara.) Take that water away. Do as I tell you. 

Sara (rising, taking the basin). Who are you, that you 
should use such language to old Sara? 

Dick. Why, old lady, don't you know ? We're the War- 
rens — the richest people you've got in this part of the 
country. 

Sara. Rich people, are you? (Going up stage.) Well, 
I have seen beggars with better manners. (Exit R. U. E.) 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 17 

Dick (laughs). Good for the old woman. By George, 
she's got ginger. (To Edith.) Say, sis, I'm sorry about 
that foot of yours. 

Edith. Don't waste any sympathy on my foot, Dick. 
There's nothing the matter with it. 

Dick. Oh, but I say, that was a nasty fall. 

Edith. Did I fool you, too? Did you ever know me to 
fall off a horse? I simply slipped to the ground. 

Dick. Well, what in the name of Moses did you do that 
for? 

Edith. It was a ruse. I wanted an excuse to enter this 
place and see for myself what the attraction is for Bruce. 
I have never noticed any special fondness on his part for 
picturesque gardens and the sort of people we've met here. 
There's another attraction. Take my word for it. 

Dick. It does seem to need an explanation. 

Clare enters, R. U. E. 

Dick (sees Clare). Ah! 

Edith. What is it? 

Dick. The explanation has arrived. 

Edith (sees Clare). Dick, go see if Bruce is returning. 

Dick. Let Bruce go hang. I feel very much inclined to 
stay. * 

Edith. Dick, do as I ask you. 

Dick. Oh, I'll go, but I'm hanged if I feel like it. (Goes 
to L. U. E., turns and looks at Clare). By George, Bruce is 
not such a slow one, after all. (Exit L. U. E.) 

Edith (to Clare). Come here, girl. 

Clare. Are you speaking to me? 

Edith. Of course. \Mio else? I want to ask you a few 
questions, and I want you to answer them truthfully. Do 
you understand? 

Clare. Certainly. I will answer your questions, if I feel 
like it. 

Edith. How long have you known Bruce McCulloch? 

Clare. Perhaps two or three weeks. 

Edith. How did you first meet him? 

Clare. He stopped at the gate one day and asked for a 
glass of spring water. 



18 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Edith. Well, he told the truth there, at any rate. How 
often has he come here? 

Clare. Don't you think you had better ask Mr. McCul- 
loch those questions? 

Edith. No, I prefer to ask you. How often has he been 
here? 

Clare. Several times — I didn't count them. 

Edith. What is it that brings him here? 

Clare. He is fond of flowers, is he not? 

Edith. I have never noticed it. 

Clare. Oh, yes, he knows more about them than I do, 
and I have lived among them all my life. I never knew, 
until he told me, that flowers had a language. 

Edith. Taught you the language of flowers, eh? 
(Laughs.) Well, that's good. 

Clare. Do you think it funny? 

Edith. Very — (aside) — but he will not find it so. 

Clare. Is there anything else? 

Edith. No. If there is, I'll ask you. 

Clare. Well, if you do, I won't tell you? 

Enter Bruce and Dick, L. U. E. 

Bruce. The carriage has arrived, Edith. (Sees Clare. 
Goes to her and takes her hand.) Clare, how are you? 
Have you met Miss Warren? 

Clare. Yes, I have met her. 

Dick. But she hasn't met Miss Warren's brother. Bruce, 
where are your rnanners ? 

Bruce. I beg your pardon. Clare, allow me to introduce 
Mr. Dick Warren. Dick, Miss Joyce. 

Dick (crossing 'to Clare). Clare! By George, that's a 
pretty name. I say, we're going to be good friends, aren't 
we? 

Clare. I can't say until I know you better. 

Dick (laughs). Well, by George, you're candid enough 
about it. But you musn't give all your attention to Bruce, 
I'm just as good a fellow as he is any day. 

Bruce (catches Dick's shoulder and turns him up stage). 
That'll do, Dick. Miss Joyce has had quite enough of you. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 19 

(To Edith.) If you are ready, Edith, let me help you to 
the carriage. 

Edith {rising, angrily). I can dispense with your assist- 
ance. My brother will see me home. 

Bruce. But I will ride along with you. 

Edith {going up to L. U. E.). I forbid you. You may 
remain here and continue the education of your interesting 
pupil. Come, Dick. {Exit L. U. E.) 

Dick {going to E. U. E.) Now you're in for it, old boy. 
You ought to have made allowance for the Warren temper. 

Bruce. But what is the matter? (Dick points with his 
riding i^'hip to Clare, zvho has turned her back.) Oh, I see. 
But, Dick, go after her. She'll damage that ankle of hers. 

Dick. Don't worry about that ankle, old boy. There's 
not a thing the matter with it. That was one of Edith's 
tricks. Accept my sympathy, my dear fellow. You're in 
for a hot old time. So long. {Bozvs laughingly to Clare.) 
Good afternoon. Miss Joyce. {Exits E. U. E.) 

Bruce {to Clare). You musn't mind Dick, Clare. He's 
only a silly boy. 

Clare. I don't mind him. But his sister — she is angry 
with me for something, isn't she? 

Bruce. No, I think it is with me she is angry ; but she'll 
probably get over it. 

Clare. But why did she speak so to me? Have I done 
anything to anger her? 

Bruce {takes her hands). No, Clare; you must not 
worry that curly head about them. They are not of your 
world and likely you will never see them again. See, I 
haven't been here for two long days. Can't we find some- 
thing more interesting to talk about? 

Clare. Oh, that other world that you and she live in — 
that's what I want to talk about. I am so different. I 
know nothing outside of my little home here. I have never 
been away from this little village — never met anyone but 
the people who have lived all their lives as I have — except 
you. Won't you tell me more of tliat other world where 
you belong? 

Bruce. No. Clare : it wouUl spoil you. I like you best 



20 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

as you are. Why, you are a treat to a man of the world 
Hke me. Don't try to be different — for my sake. 

Clare. Very well, if I must not. But I did so want to 
learn. (Sits R.) 

Bruce (leaning over her chair). Little girl, you are 
just right as you are. I wouldn't have you different for 
anything in the world. Stay here among your flowers — 
for there's where you belong. Promise me you will never 
think of that other world again. 

Clare. It would please you? 

Bruce. Very much, Clare. 

Clare (zvith a sigh) Then I promise. 

Bruce. That's right. And while I think of it, I want 
to thank you for your letter, Clare. I can't tell you how 
much it pleased me. 

Clare. My letter ? 

Bruce. Yes here it is. (Takes letter, without envelope, 
from pocket.) I've carried it in my pocket ever since re- 
ceiving it. 

Clare. I'm afraid I was very foolish to write that let- 
ter — but you asked me to, you know. 

Bruce. I know I did. I wanted to see if your letter 
would be anything like yourself. And it is, Clare; it 
breathes of you. I should have known it for your letter 
if there had been no name signed to it. 

Clare. Then you must think me a very silly girl. It is 
so full of foolish childish thoughts. But I just wrote what 
was in my heart, and I thought you would understand. 
You do understand, don't you? 

Bruce. Of course I do, dear, and I wouldn't part with 
it for all the world. 

Oscar appears at zvindozv for an instant, then goes tozvard 
L. U. E. 

Clare. Oh, no ; you must not keep it. You must give it 
back to me. I wouldn't have anyone see it but you. 
(Reaches for the letter.) . 

Bruce. Clare, can't you trust me? No eyes but mine 
shall read it, I swear to you. See, I will make a fair ex- 
change. (Takes from his pocket a sprig of rosemary.) 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 21 

Clare .(takes flozver). Tjiat is very pretty. No, I have 
never seen this before. What is it called? 

Bruce. Rosemary. (Bruce seems to put the letter in 
his vest pocket, hut unknown to him it falls to the floor.) 

Oscar appears at door L. U. E. He sees letter fall, 
picks it up and quickly puts it in his pocket. 

Clare. Rosemary. Has it a meaning, too? 

Bruce. Yes — it is for remembrance. 

Clare (holding the flozver). For remembrance. Then 
you keep it. I don't need it. (Places flozver in buttonhole 
of Bruce's coat.) 

Bruce (catches her hands). I wanted you to keep it, 
little girl, so that you would not forget me when I go away. 

Clare. You are going away? 

Bruce. Some day I must, Clare. 

Clare (turning from him). Yes, that is true — some day 
you must. 

Bruce (going to her). Will you be sorry? (A pause. 
He places his arms around her.) Clare! (She turns 
quickly, her head on his shoulder, zvith a sob.) 

Oscar (comes dozvn stage angrily). You thief ! (Bruce 
and Clare start apart.) 

Bruce. What ! 

Oscar. You thief! You steal into this house and take 
what belongs to another! 

Bruce. I don't know who you are, young man. or what 
you mean. 

Oscar. I am Oscar Weber. Clare Joyce is my affianced 
wife ! 

Bruce. Clare, is this true? 

Clare. No, no ; it is not true. 

Oscar. She lies! 

Bruce. What! (Raises Jiis zvhip as if to strike.) 

Oscar (in a rage). If you come near me, I'll kill you. 
(Clare steps in betzveen the tzvo men, facing Oscar, pro- 
tecting Bruce.) 

Clare. Oscar Weber, this is my father's house! 

CURTAIN. 



22 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Act II. 

Scene I: Clare's garden, late afternoon. See Scene 
Plot for stage setting. 

loHN discovered sprinkling flozvers and singing to him- 
self. 

Enter Sara from house R., remains near house. 

Sara. There you are again, singing — singing — singing. 
You were at it before breakfast this morning. Don't you 
know that means tears before the day is out? 

John. But it is such a beautiful world, Sara. I can't 
help being glad to be alive. Everything seems so happy — 
birds, flowers, everything. Don't spoil it with a long face, 
Sara. 

Sara. That's all right about my face. I've got the face 
that God gave me. 

Enter Heine from L. 

Sara. Well, where have you been all day? 

Heine. I was learnin' Dick Warren how to spear fish 
in the creek; but I got so tired I went to sleep. (Yawns.) 

John. You should go at night to the creek to spear fish. 
Don't you know that? 

Sara. What should he know about day and night. It is 
all the same to him. 

Heine. Say, them Warrens is tony. 

Sara. Tony fiddlesticks! They are no better than the 
rest of us. The father makes a fortune from the soap fac- 
tory, but that don't make them tony. 

Heine. That's all right. They got a bathtub in their 
house. 

Sara. Here, you go into the house. You have run 
around enough today. 

Heine (going into house). Say, grandmother, you ought 
to change the name .of that gander you bought last week. 

Sara. Change the name of my gander. Why should I ? 
I christened him after my grandfather. 

Heine. Well, you better christen him after your grand- 
mother, 'cause he laid an Qgg yesterday. (Exits into house.) 

Sara. Goodness me, have I been deceived? 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 



23 



John. Sara, who do you think I see Oscar Weber talk- 
ing with yesterday? 

Sara. How shoukl I know? 

John. Miss Warren. 

Sara. Miss Warren. Now, what can those two have to 
sav to each other. 

ToHN I don't know, but I can guess. Don t you know 
that that Mr. McCuUoch that comes here is engaged to 

Miss Warren? , . wi ^ c^o 

Sara. I have heard so. That is why he rented the Sea- 
bury place, to spend the summer near her. But what has 
that eot to do with Oscar? ,, ^ ,i t 

ToHN. Oscar is jealous because Mr. McCul och comes 
here so often. When I saw those two together I wondered 
if they were not hatching some plan to help each other. 

Sara. That man should stay axyay from here. We are 
only plain common people; he is different from us. I tell 
yoi^ it won't come to no good. Clare is for Oscar Weber, 
and the sooner the marriage takes place the better. 

John. You would not have her marry where her heart 

" SARA^^r would not have her heart broken by this 
strange; Oscar has been patient long enough. Besides 
the Webers know how to hate. I wouldn't have them for 
enemies. 

John. No, nor I. x r^ » i 

Heine {from door of house). Gran ma! 

Sara. Well, what is it now? 

Heine. Gimme somethin' to eat. 

Sara. You wait till supper. u,,,Hfn1 nf 

Heine. I'm hungry. I'm gom' to take a handful of 
them douo-hnuts. (Exits into house.) 

S^RA Heavens above-if he ever starts on those dough- 
nuts there won't be a one for supper. (E..ts mto house 

^"ioHN^r/omry off R. zcith sprinkling can). That is true 
what she s'a's' I would not have the Webers for enemies^ 
Enter Little Elsie from house, runs across stage and 
hides behind garden bench L. 



24 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Elsie. Clare can't find me — Clare can't find me. 
Enter Clare from house, with hook. 

Clare. Elsie, where are you? You're hiding somewhere. 
{Sees Elsie.) Ah, I see you. {Crosses to L. of stage.) 

Elsie {coining from behind the seat and laughing). You 
finded me. 

Clare. Yes, I finded you. {Stands Elsie on the seat.) 
And now you must say your lessons. 

Elsie. Me don't like lessons, Clare. 

Clare. No ; nobody likes lessons ; but you cannot learn 
without them. 

Elsie. Oh, I learn enough already; I know everything. 
Tell me story first — little Red Riding Hood. 

Clare. But I have told you that so often. 

Elsie. I forget the last part, when Red Ridin* Hood 
comes upstairs and the old wolf is in the bed. 

Clare {stands beside the seat, her arm around Elsie). 
Well, the old wolf is all covered up in the bed, and little 
Red Riding Hood says, *'0h, Gran'ma, what makes your 
eyes so big? 

Elsie (imitating the mysterious tone). That's to see 
you all the better, my dear. 

Enter Bruce from E., comes softly down stage behind 
them. 

Clare' {unazvare of Bruce's presence). Oh, Gran'ma, 
what makes your ears so big? 

Elsie {same business). That's to hear all the better, my 
dear. 

Clare. Oh, Gran'ma, what makes your mouth so big? 

Bruce {very roughly). That's to eat you up! (Clare 
and Elsie scream and hug each other in pretended fright.) 

Elsie {holding on to Clare, shaking her finger at 
Bruce), You frightened me. 

Bruce {laughing). Did I? And did I frighten you, too, 
Clare? 

Clare. Oh, yes; I thought it was the great big wolf 
come to eat us up. (Elsie hugs her and shudders.) 

Elsie {to Bruce). Me got a birfday today. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 25 

Bruce. A birthday. Well, that's fine. How old are you? 

Elsie. Seven — going on eight. 

Bruce. Why, you're almost a young lady. Let's see if 
we can find seven pennies. {Takes chanye from his 
pocket.) Hold out your hand. (Elsie holds out her hand, 
Bruce counts the pennies into it.) One, two, three, four, 
five, six. (He pauses.) 

Elsie. Seven — going on eight. 

Bruce. Oh, yes, so it is. Seven. There you are. 

Elsie. Me had a birfday last week. 

Bruce. You did. \\'ell, tell me, how often do you have 
birthdays ? 

Elsie. When comp'ny comes. 

Bruce (laughs). Oh, I see; you have an eye to business. 
(Puts her dozvn from seat.) Well, run into the house and 
bank your ill-gotten gains before you feel another birthday 
coming on. (Elsie runs tozvard house, Bruce turns to 
Clare. Elsie returns to C. of stage.) 

Elsie. Oh, Gran'ma, what makes your mouth so big? 

Bruce (springing at her). To eat you up ! (Elsie screams 
and runs laughing into house. Bruce returns to Clare.) 
I should think that youngster would be a great pleasure to 
you, Clare. You seem to have so few amusements. The 
young people about here are so serious and old. Don't vou 
find it dull? 

Clare (sits on bench). Yes, that is true. We don't have 
much excitement, except a funeral once in a while. (Bruce 
turns to hide a laugh.) Now, what have I said? What are 
you laughing at? 

Bruce. I beg your pardon, Clare. 

Clare. Oh, I know you find us amusing here. You are 
so different from us. You are different from anybody I 
ever saw before. 

Bruce (leaning over the bench). And you are an abso- 
lutely new experience to me, little girl. I can't begin to tell 
you how much pleasure I've gotten out of this little friend- 
ship. You have enjoyed it. too, haven't you. Clare? 

Clare. Yes, but not in the same way you have. It has 
been only a pastime to you — to me it has n^ant more than 
that. 



26 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Bruce (sits beside her). What has it meant to you, 
Clare? Tell me. 

Clare. A glimpse into that other world where people 
like you live and meet. It has made me dissatisfied with, 
my little existence in this place. The world is so big and 
beautiful — there is so much to see and to learn — that it 
seems a sin to live and die in one little spot without ever 
seeing anything — or learning anything. I want to be dififej- 
ent — I want something out of life — I want to live! 

Bruce. Why, Clare, you surprise me. I thought you 
were perfectly happy here. 

Clare. I was until you came. Then I did not know any 
better. Now I want to be different. 

Bruce. Then let me help you. I can't take you out in 
the big beautiful world, but I can bring the big beautiful 
world to you between the covers of books, for the beauties 
of the earth have been written about and described by men 
and women more gifted than we are, who have seen with 
clear eyes and painted with loving touches the many beau- 
tiful things God has given us to enjoy. I will bring you 
books, Clare, books of travel, of people and of art, and you 
can revel in them to your heart's content, and learn more 
from them than a duffer like me could ever teach you. 

Clare. Oh, will you do that ? Then I will be happy. 

Bruce (taking her hand). I would like to make you 
very happy, Clare. 

Edith and Oscar have entered L. on the last line. 

Edith (corning down C). You seem to be doing your 
best. (Bruce and Clare rise from the bench.) 

Bruce (to Edith). Oh, when did you arrive? 

Edith. In time to witness the rather interesting scene 
between the leading man and the village maiden. Really, 
Bruce, it is a pity you are not on the stage. You have so 
much talent in a certain direction. 

Bruce. Edith, this is uncalled for. 

Edith. So was I uncalled for. Have you forgotten you 
had an engagement to drive with me at four o'clock? 

Bruce. No, but I had lost track of the time. I beg your 
pardon How did you know I was here? 



UNDER BLUE SKTES 27 



T- T i.ori cf^rted out on my drive alone when I met 

thJyo^ng man^wS^;Osc^Kl and he ventured to say 

^^TucTcr.:.-:;'^ SX O.. I see -.e see.s to Ueep 
ready: Where is the trap • 

r,X';n.x"prii';r;:ir, ,?. „/. .™. 

and turns her around.) 

Oscar. You wait! ,-,„.„ me' 

Clare (<i»(7r,7y). You are speakmg to me. 

Oscar. Yes, you've got to listen. 

Clare. Let go ray arm p 

OSCAR. I won't unt,l I've said all I ve go o say ^^^^^ 

you know what y°« f^^^/^^'/^l^ely ett.ng d is man hang 
the laughing stock^of ^^ ,*^„^^„ '". He is a stranger, 
around so much. He 3? "°t >ke one ot ^ ^^^ ^ ^^^^^ 

a man of the world. \ou are notmng ^^^^,^ ^^^^^^ 

If you don't know that everyone else aoes. 

the^ are saying ^^^^ ^.inr a^g'oi g t "anl for that? 
then laugh. Do you thnik i an go g ^^^^ ^^^^^^ 

Do you think I am f "? ^° ™\7-,fe,f he gets tired amus- 
herself before the whole ^ v^ ^ ^\ '^^^^^ g ; ^^,il, ^^ j^o 
ing himself with you, you 11 '""Vf "^,.. ;, " , 
tate. I won't marry another "«" ^^P';>J^'; P;^,, Oscar in 
CLARE («.r«,c/,« /-e^- '''''" r;^ifk?o me Ike riiat. Go 
the faee) . You dog. You dare to talk tone ^^^^^^^ 

""oscTR'-CZ-o/dm, /n. /-o.d to hu face and ,oin, »/> stage). 



28 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

You'll be sorry for this. I'll make you pay for this before 
the day is out. Just wait. You just wait! {Exit L.) 

Clare. 'Oh, what he said — it can't be true — it can't be 
true. 

Elsie (rims from house calling) Clare! 

Clare {kneels and clasps her tight in her armsy sobbing 
on her shoulder). Elsie! Elsie! 

CURTAIN. 



Scene II : Exterior, zvood wings and landscape backing. 
On the way to church. See Scene Plot for stage setting. 
Before the curtain rises the chapel bell is heard ringing 
softly, continues until curtain is zvell up. After it ceases 
Old John enters from R. He carries unlighted lantern 
and a bunch of keys. As he reaches center of stage he 
turns and looks back toward R., looking up as if at belfry. 

John. I've been ringing that old bell for forty years, 
and it has learned to speak to me just like my flowers. 
Sometimes it is joyful — sometimes sad. Maybe today the 
last note will die away in a soft rippling jingle, like a baby's 
laughter; then again it ends with a shriek and a sob like 
the wail of some lost soul. Ah, well, soon it will be ringing 
for Old John, and another's hands will hold the rope. 
The little chapel will know me no longer, and my flowers 
will wonder where I've gone. Well, well {going off L. U. 
£.), such is life — it is the way we all must go — we all must 
go. {Exits L. U. E., mumbling to himself.) 

Oscar enters quickly L. U. E., goes up stage, looks off 
after John. 

Oscar. I thought the old fool would never go. Now is 
the time — before the others come. I will pay her back for 
what she said to me. I will make her suffer for it. I wish 
I could kill her. {Takes Clare's letter from his pocket.) 
But this is better. This will kill her heart while it lets her 
live and suffer the shame of it. And she will think 
it is his work. Good! I never thought of that. She will 
think he did it. ( Glances at letter.) What a fool she was 



UNDER BLUE SKIES • 29 

to write such stuff — and she puts her name at the bottom 
of it. Well, we will see what her neighbors and friends 
think of such things. They are saying enough already. 
Wait till they read this. I will pin it to the chapel door, 
where all who enter may read. And she will think it is his 
work. Nobody knows I had the letter. Nobody knows. 
Nobody knows. (Exits R. 1 E.) 

Enter from L. U. E., chatting as they come on, Tillie, 
Sophie and Minnie. They come down C. of stage. 

TiLLiE. It is the truth. Don't I know it? Mrs. Webber 
told my aunt. 

Sophie. Then your aunt has got it wrong, because Oscar 
Weber told my brother that he wasn't going to marry her. 

Minnie. Well, I don't blame Oscar. It's a shame the 
way she is talked about. There is many a girl here that 
would be glad to get Oscar Weber. 

Tillie. Speak for yourself, Minnie. Me is too much of a 
bully for me. 

Sophie. He takes after his mother. Come on. I guess 
we're early for church. Let's go in and sit awhile. (They 
go off R., chatting.) 

Enter Mrs. Weber, Mrs. Holt and ^Mrs. \\'agner, L. 
U. E. 

Mrs. Weber (speaking as she enters). Yes, I have al- 
ways said, Mrs. Holt, I am a just woman. There are very 
few women in the world that have got such a clear con- 
science as I have. I always do my duty by my family and 
my friends, and there is nobody in the world who can point 
the finger of scorn in my face. 

Sophie, Minnie and Ttllte come running hack from 
R., excited. 

Minnie. Oh, Mrs. Weber, what a disgrace — and she is 
engaged to your Oscar. 

Mrs. Weber. Wliat is the matter with you girls? What 
are you saying? 

Minnie. It's about Clare Joyce. She has written a love 
letter to that strange man and somebody has pinned it to 
the chapel door. 



30 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Mrs. Wagner. A love letter. Shameful ! 

Mrs. Holt. What a disgrace ! 

Mrs. Weber. Now, you see the Lord has punished me 
for my vanity. I have just said the finger of scorn was 
never pointed at my face. 

Mrs. Wagner. But this does not shame you, Mrs. 
Wagner. She is nothing to you. 

Mrs. Weber. She is to be my Oscar's wife. She is al- 
most my daughter-in-law. I can't help but feel this disgrace. 

Mrs. Holt. What! You will let your Oscar marry her 
now? 

Mrs. Weber. Yes. It is too good a match to be broken 
off, and she will be glad enough to get him now. 

Mrs. Wagner. Here, you girls go on into the chapel, 
and don't you read any more of that letter. (Sophie, Min- 
nie and TiLLiE exit R., giggling among themselves.) 

Mrs. Weber. Pinned to the chapel door. I wonder who 
put it there? 

Mrs. Wagner. You think somebody put it there? 

Mrs. Holt. It didn't grow there, did it ? 

Mrs. Wagner. That's so. Maybe somebody found it and 
put it there for a joke. 

Mrs. Holt. That's a mighty queer joke. {Starting 
toward R.) Shall we go and take it down? 

Mrs. Weber (catches her arm). No; let it stay until 
everybody has seen it. It will take the starch out of that 
little piece. Come, let us go into chapel. We must not be 
seen gossiping about it. (Exit R.) 

Enter Editpi and Dick, L. U. E. 

Edith. Come, Dick, go in the chapel with me. 

Dick. Not on your life. I'll lead you to the door of the 
good place, but I will not enter. I'm bound for the other 
direction anyhow. No use getting sidetracked. 

Edith. Be serious, Dick. I want to go in, but not alone. 

Dick. It's no go, sis. I haven't been in a church for so 
long I wouldn't know how to behave. What's struck you 
anyway? Religion was never one of your strong points. 

Edith. We'll not discuss that. I want to attend this 
evening's service, and I want you to go with me. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 31 

Dick (crossing to extreme R., looks off). By the way, 
there's something pasted on the chapel door. Wonder what 
it is? 

Edith (going off R. quickly). I'll see. It's probably 
some notice. 

Dick (crossing back to L.). I'll bet four dollars they 
heard I was coming and put up a warning not to enter. 

Edith enters R. zvith an open letter in her hand. 

Edith. Dick, it's a letter — a soft, foolish letter, addressed 
to Bruce, from that simpleton, Clare Joyce. 

Dick. What! A letter to Bruce? What's it doing here? 

Edith. I wonder. How dared she write such stuff to 
him. (Holds it out to him.) Read it. 

Dick (puts hands behind him). No, I'll be hanged if I 
do. It wasn't intended for my eyes — nor yours, Edith. 

Edith. Fiddlesticks. I suppose every one who has en- 
tered the chapel has read it. I wonder whose work this is. 

Oscar enters R. U. E. unseen by Dick and Edith. 

Dick. If I knew it would give me a great deal of happi- 
ness to kick him from here to Halifax and back again. It's 
the work of a scoundrel — a blackguard — (suddenly sees 
Oscar). Oh, how long have you been hanging around? 

Oscar. I have just come. 

Dick. Are you sure of that? 

Oscar. What do you mean? 

Edith. Then you know nothing of this. (Hands letter 
to Oscar.) 

Oscar (looks at it, hands it back). No; I never saw it 
before. 

Dick. I believe you're lying. 

Oscar. What! 

Edith (goes between them). Don't mind my brother. 
Mr. Weber. He doesn't mean everything he says. We 
thought perhaps you had some idea who put this on the 
chapel door. 

Oscar. I suppose the man it was written to did it — who 
else? 

Dick. You double-dyed village idiot ; do you mean to say 
Bruce McCulloch would stoop to a trick like that? 



32 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Oscar. Yes ; I say it. Who else had the letter ? 

Dick. You — you (to Edith). Go away. (Pushes her 
aiuay.) I want to call this fellow something (to Oscar). 
Bruce McCulloch is my friend, and if you intimate that he 
did this thing, I'll knock your block off. 

Edith. But the letter is addressed to Bruce. 

Dick. You, too? Why, Edith, I'm ashamed of you. You 
don't deserve Bruce's friendship. 

Edith. I've had very little of his friendship lately. This 
girl has monoplized his entire attention for the past three 
weeks. He has evidently gotten tired of her and has taken 
this means of telling her. 

Dick. It isn't true. I'm mad enough to break some- 
body's head. (Turns angrily up stage, facing Oscar.) Get 
out of my way, you clod. (Goes off L. U. E.) 

Edith (going to Oscar, holds out her hand). We are 
friends, are we not, Oscar? 

Oscar (takes her hand). Yes, if you wish it. 

Edith. Then tell me the truth about it. Just between 
ourselves, you know. 

Oscar (hesitates). I know no more than you do. 

Edith. Oh, come. I am as anxious to break up this affair 
as you are. If you have any plan, tell me, and I may be able 
to help you. 

Oscar. I haven't any ; but before I get through with her 
she'll be sorry she threw me over for a man who don't care 
any more for her than the dirt beneath his feet. 

Edith. What do you intend to do? 

Oscar. I'll watch her and follow her until I find her in 
the wrong, and then I'll advertise it all over the whole town. 

Edith. I want you to promise me something. The next 
time you find her with Bruce McCulloch, come to me at 
once and tell me. Will you do this? (Holds out her hand 
to him.) 

Oscar (takes her Jiand). Yes. 

Enter Clare^ L. U. E., crosses tozvard R. 2 E. 

Edith. Wait a minute — you. I have something that be- 
longs to you. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 33 

Clare. Something that belongs to me? Oh, if you mean 
Oscar Weber, you can keep him. 

Edith. Remember who you are talking, to, girl. You had 
better use a more civil tone when addressing your betters. 

Clare. When I am addressing my betters — I will. 

Edith. I had begun to feel a little sorry for you; but 
now I'm not. 

Clare. Why should you feel sorry for jnef 

Edith. Read that and perhaps you will understand. 
(Gives letter to Clare.) 

Clare {glances at letter, then crushes it in her hand). 
How came you by this? 

Edith. W'e found it pasted on the chapel door. Every 
one who went in read it. 

Clare. On the chapel door? Are you telling me the 
truth ? 

Edith. You believe I would lie? 

Clare. It would be easier to believe the whole world lied 
than to believe this. {Turns sharply to Oscar.) Oscar 
Weber, you know something of this. 

Oscar. I only know what the whole town knows — that 
that man has been amusing himself, and now he's tired of 
you, just as I said he would be, and he wants to* let you 
know it. 

Clare. I don't believe it 

Edith {crosses to Clare). No, of course you don't. You 
think you know him, don't you? Well, I know him better 
than you do. He is no better than other men — and none of 
them are angels. All the time he has been trifling with you, 
he has been engaged to me. You poor little fool, what do 
you know of men of his class ? Just as your friend says, he 
has grown tired of the game and has taken this means of 
showing it. {Singing begins softly off stage R., organ plays 
softly.) There, the service is almost over. {Crosses in front 
of Clare to R.2 E.) I'm going in for the singing. Are you 
coming. Miss Joyce, or have you the courage to face your 
friends and neighbors? {WitJi a little contonptuons laugh 
she exits R.2 E.) 

Oscar {crossing to R. 2 E.). No, you haven't the cour- 



34 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

age. You'll never be able to hold up your head again. You 
fool — you poor, silly fool. (Exits R. 2 E.) 

Clare (crushes letter between her hands). Yes, they are 
right. I am a fool — a plaything, they called me. God, could 
he have done this thing? (Unfolds the letter.) My little 
letter — my poor little foolish letter — that he said he wanted 
to keep — and then he puts it there for all those evil-minded 
people to read and make fun of. I can't go in there. But I 
must. They will think I am afraid — afraid of their sneers 
and insults. Yes, I will go in. I will show them. I will 
show them. (Goes tozvard R. 2 E., then throws out her 
hands and falls sobbing to her knees, her face buried in her 
arms.) Oh, no, no; I can't face them — I can't face them! 

CURTAIN. 

Second Curtain: (Clare goes slowly up tozvard L. U. 
E., her head bowed and sobbing.) 

Note. — Take cue from Edith for the organ: "You poor 
fool!" Organ plays very softly, then the voices begin and 
sing softly until- Clare gives the cue: '7 zvill show them!" 
Voices grozv louder and sing loud and full as curtain drops. 
Keep up singing and organ for rise of second curtain and 
final drop. 



Act III. 



Scene: The apartments of Bruce McCulloch. Doors 
R. 1 E. and L. 2 E. Windozvs in C. flat. Bookcase R. and 
sideboard L. of window. Chairs and tables dozvn center' of 
stage. See Scene Plot for stage setting. A fezu hours later. 

Curtain up, Bruce seated at table, L. C, smoking and 
carelessly glancing through magazines or nezvspapers. 

Enter V/illiams, R., carries tray zvith decanter and glass, 
puts them on table. Goes up and drazvs portieres at zvindow. 

Williams. Is there anything else, sir? 

Bruce. No, Williams ; lock up and go to bed. What time 
is it? 



Ux\DER BLUE SKIES 35 

Williams. Going- on to ten o'clock, sir. 

Bruce. Ten o'clock — and I'll bet the whole town is as 
dead as a cemetery. {Yazvns.) Getting -tired of this life, 
Williams ? 

Williams. Well, it is rather quiet, sir, not being used to 
it. I prefer traveling, sir. 

Bruce. So do I ; but I've been on the wing so much all 
my life, I thought a nice quiet summer in a place like this 
was just what I needed. But a little of it goes a long way. 
I'd pack up tomorrow, Williams — but there is something 
holds me here. 

Williams (timidly).. Miss Warren, sir, if I may be so 
bold? 

Bruce. Eh? (Recollecting himself.) Oh, yes; Miss War- 
ren to be sure. (Williams exits R.) Miss Warren! No, 
by George, there's where the trouble lies. It isn't Miss 
Warren. It's Clare; dear little Clare. I've been playing 
with fire and I've got my fingers burnt. Well, I won't go 
there any more — better to break ofif now when I can. I'll 
leave Clare in peace among her flowers. (Pause.) No, that 
won't do. I must go tomorrow. I promised her the books. 
Yes, I'll go tomorrow for the last time — and then — (sighs.) 
Edith and matrimony. (Takes up book from table.) 
Here's one of the books I want Clare to have. How anxious 
she is to learn and what a pleasure it would be to teach her. 
(Bell rings off L.) Hello, what's that — a visitor? I thought 
it was after calling hours in this burg. 

Enter Williams R. 

Williams. The bell, sir; shall I answer it^ 
Bruce. By all means ; and whoever it is — tramp, beggar 
or burglar— let them in. Anything for a diversion. (Wil- 
liams exits L.) I'm so bored with my own company I'd 
welcome a hobo. 

Williams enters L. 

Williams. A lady, sir. 
Bruce. What! (Rises.) 
Clare enters L., remains inside door looking at Bruce. 



36 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Bruce. Clare ! You may go, Williams ; but remain up. I 
may want to see Miss Joyce home presently. 

Williams. Yes, sir. (Exits R.) 

Bruce {holds both hands tozvard Clare). Clare! 

Clare (coming down L. of table). Yes, Clare, the fool — 
the plaything. You can look at me like that after what you 
have done? 

Bruce. But what have I done? 

Clare. What have you done ? You have taken the warm 
beating heart of another fellow being and made it your play- 
thing. You have tossed it about for your own amusement 
until now it is broken and worthless. You knew what you 
were doing — you are a man of the world^while I knew 
nothing. Why didn't you leave me where I was happy — 
among my flowers. My life was dull ; yes, but my soul was 
content. You have robbed me of that content ; you have 
held me up to the scorn of these people that I shall have to 
live amongst the rest of my life. But what does that matter 
to you ? You must have amusement — you must have a play- 
thing ! 

Bruce. Clare, I don't understand what has caused all 
this. I'm sorry if I have hurt you. Why, I'd give my life 
to undo the wrong, if you will only tell me what it is. 

Clare. My letter — my foolish, childish letter—where is 
it? What have you done with it? 

Bruce. Your letter? I have it here — in my pocket. 
(Searches hurriedly in his pockets.) 

Clare. Yes, search for it ; you will never find it there. 

Bruce (surprised). No, it is gone. I don't understand; 
what did I do with it? 

Clare. You put it where all the world could read it and 
laugh at my poor silly words. (TJirows letter on the table.) 
There it is. I was a child when I wrote it. I am a woman 
now, and I tell you it was a cowardly thing to do — to take 
those simple, innocent expressions of a child's heart and 
paste them on the chapel door. (She sinks into chair L. of 
table, lays her head on table, crying.) 

Bruce (on other side of table). On the chapel door! 
Clare, you don't think I did that? Your little letter that I 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 37 

wouldn't have parted with for the world. You think I did 
that ? 

Clare. Who else had it ? I saw it in yoiir hands but yes- 
terday. 

Bruce. I can't imagine how I lost it. I thought it safe 
in my coat pocket. But no matter how strong the evidence 
was against me, you should not believe me capable of such 
a thing. What reason could I have had for doing it? 

Clare. They said you were tired of the play and wanted 
to end it. 

Bruce. Who said that? 

Clare. Miss Warren, Oscar Weber and the others. 

Bruce. Miss Warren. {To himself.) I wonder if she 
had a hand in it. Clare, I've been very much to blame in 
this. I admit it, and I am sorry. I should have given your 
letter back to you when you asked for it. Perhaps I 
shouldn't have gone to your little garden as often as I did. 
But I meant no harm in it. {She turns from him.) Yes, I 
know — that's what a man usually says when the harm is 
done. I must straighten this out some way. You shall not 
be made to suffer for my thoughtlessness. I must take you 
home now. It is late. If an^^ of them knew you were here 
at this hour it would give them more food for gossip. I'll 
think it all over tonight and tomorrow I will come to see 
you. 

Clare {rising). No, you must never come again. That 
is why I came here tonight — to tell you you must never 
come again. 

Bruce. And leave you to face these narrow-minded 
idiots alone? W^ell, I guess not. I'm not built that way. 
(Goes to R.) Williams! 

Williams {inside). Yes, sir. 

Bruce. Sit up for me. I am going to take ]\riss Joyce 
home. {Bell rings off L.) What's that? 

Williams enters R. 

Williams. Another caller sir. Shall I go? 
Bruce. Yes. (Williams j-^ar^^ L.) Wait! (Williams 
pauses.) Clare, they must not see you — whoever it is. Find 



38 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

out who it is, Williams, and don't let them in if you can 
help it. (Williams e.vits L.) 

Edith {outside of L.). I want to see Mr. McCulloch. 

Oscar {outside of L.). Is Miss Joyce here? 

Williams (outside). Kindly wait here a moment. 

Bruce (after listening). Edith and Oscar Weber. They 
must not see you here. (Goes up stage quickly, drazvs por- 
tieres at low zvindozv.) Come, Clare, until they are gone. 
(Clare exits through lozv zvindozv. Bruce drazvs portieres. 
He returns to table and is lighting a cigar.) 

Williams enters L. 

Williams. Miss Warren. She insists on entering. 
Bruce. Let her. (Williams goes up to L.) 

Enter Edith, L., follozved by Oscar. Edith goes dozvn 
to left of table. Oscar remains up stage, C. 

Bruce. Oh, Edith, this is a surprise. And Mr. Weber, 
too — a double honor. To what am I indebted? (Will- 
iams exits, R.) 

Edith. Where is that girl? 

Bruce. What girl? You didn't expect me to be enter- 
taining a lady at this time of night, did you? 

Edith (facing him across the table). This one doesn't 
happen to be a lady. 

Bruce. That would make it so much the worse. Will 
you kindly tell me what you two are after? 

Oscar (comes dozvn R.). You know well enough what 
we are after, and there's no use play-acting. I saw her enter 
here. 

Bruce (turns to Oscar). Oh, so you've taken to hang- 
ing around my house at nights, watching, like the dog you 
are. 

Oscar. I care nothing about your house ; but I am watch- 
ing her, and I followed her to your gate tonight. 

Bruce. Followed whom? 

Oscar. Clare Joyce. 

Bruce. Oh, you think Miss Joyce is here. 

Oscar. I tell you I saw her enter your gate a short time 
ago. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 39 

Bruce. Then if you objected so strongly to her coming, 
why didn't you stop her? 

Oscar. Because I wanted to catch her-liere with you — 
and I wanted a witness. 

Bruce. So you went for your conspirator in the plot — 
Miss Warren. 

Edith. That will do, Bruce. You and I have got to un- 
derstand each other. I am tired of your behavior with this 
girl, and if she is here in your rooms tonight, our engage- 
ment is broken off. Do you understand? 

Bruce. Perfectly. But I want to ask you, Edith, in all 
fairness — for this fellow is not worth considering — do you 
think you are doing the square womanly thing in persecut- 
ing this child simply because, in my thoughtlessness, I have 
paid her some little attention? I am the one that should 
suft'er — not she — for it was I who forced my attentions 
upon her, and I alone am to blame. 

Edith. You tell me this to my face? 

Bruce. Yes, you said it was best we understand each 
other. (Oscar has made his way to extretne R., places his 
Jiand on door R., zvhen Bruce turns and sees hint.) Will 
you keep away from that door? If I catch you nosing 
around here, you sneaky chipmunk, I'll throw you out of 
the window. Do you understand? 

Oscar. You are afraid to let us search for her. 

Bruce. I wouldn't give you the satisfaction. (When 
Bruce turns tozvard Oscar, Edith sees the letter on table, 
quickly picks it up, then crushes it in her hand.) 

Edith. Will you swear to me that Clare Joyce is not in 
this house? 

Bruce. No, I will not ; you'll have to take my word for it. 

Edith. Then you lie — for here is the letter I gave her 
myself this very evening. (Holds letter out.) 

Bruce. You gave her that letter. Will you tell me how 
it came in your possession? 

Edith. I took it from the chapel door where it had been 
pasted all evening. 

Bruce. Did you also put it there? 



40 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Edith. You forget yourself. 

Bruce. No; I'm only judging you by the company you 
keep. I'll trouble you for that letter. {Reaches for the 
letter.) 

Clare makes slight movement behind the portieres. 
Oscar sees it and begins stealthily to make his way to the 
window. As he is half way up stage Williams enters R., 
quietly, sees Oscar and foilozvs him softlly. 

Edith. And if I refuse. 

Bruce. I shall think you want it again for the chapel 
door, (Edith throws letter on table, Bruce takes it and 
puts it in his pocket. Oscar has reached the portieres and 
has his hand raised to draw them aside, zvhen Williams 
takes him by the shoulders and throzvs him across stage 
toward L. Bruce turns at the sound). Good for you, Wil- 
liams. 

Williams. Shall I throw him out, sir? 

Bruce. Thanks. I'm reserving that pleasure for myself. 

Oscar, {excited, pointing to portieres). She's behind 
those curtains — she's been Jhere all the time — that's all I 
wanted to know. She's been coming here to his rooms all 
the time — I ought to have watched her long ago. Now I 
know you, Clare Joyce, for what you are, and the whole 
town shall know it — the whole town shall know it! (Bruce 
grabs him and after a slight struggle throzvs him through 
door L. Williams lends a hand at the finish and follows 
Oscar off L.) 

Edith. Bruce McCulloch, I'll give you one more chance. 
Will you throw aside those portieres and let me see for 
myself ? 

Bruce. No, I will not. 

Edith. That is answer enough for me. From this mo- 
ment our engagement is at an end. Do you understand? 

Bruce. Perfectly. 

Edith {going off L.). I wish you joy of your bargain. 

Bruce. Thank you. (Edith exits L.) 

^^'ILLIAMS enters L. 
Williams. They have gone, sir. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 41 

Bruce. Williams, will you think I'm crazy if 1 order you 
to get the auto to the door in fifteen minutes ? 

Williams. No, sir. 

Bruce. Good. Make James hustle, and you get ready 
to accompany me. 

Williams {going to R.). Yes, sir. {Exits R.) 

Bruce {goes to zvindozv, throws aside portieres). Come, 
Clare, they have gone. 

Clare {corning dozvn stage. Has cloak throzun over her 
arm.) At last. I thought they would never go. And 
what was the use of it all? They knew I was there. 

Bruce. Yes; the letter and that wall-eyed admirer of 
yours gave it away. 

Clare. Now, I must go home. I was wrong to come here 
— I see it now — ^but I was so unhappy — so miserable — to 
think you had done that awful thing. I have caused you 
trouble, too. I am sorry. Maybe when Miss Warren sees 
that you were not in the wrong, she will forgive you. 

Bruce {taking her hands). I don't want her to forgive 
me, Clare. I'm glad she threw me over. Now I am free to 
think of you. 

Clare. No, you must not say that. You must never think 
of me again. It has been all wrong from the beginning. I 
must go home now, and tomorrow— tomorrow I shall have 
to face them all. 

Bruce. No, you shall not, Clare. Come, sit down for a 
moment. I have something to say to you. Please. {She sits 
in chair R. of table.) Clare, when I first began this little 
friendship of vours I did it for my own amusement. \ou 
were new to me— different from the women I had been ac- 
customed to. You were sweet and innocent and unworldly, 
and it was just a pleasant pastime for me. Then, when I 
should have put an end to it, I couldn't, because it had got 
a hold on me. If I did not go to Clare's garden one day, 
something seemed lacking in my hitherto satisfied existence 
Here, tonight, before you came I sat thinking of you and 
regretting the tie that bound me to Edith Warren. That tie 
no longer exists, Clare. You heard her with her own lips 
release me from it. I am now free— free to ask you to be 



42 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

my wife, and lay whatever there is in me that is good and 
clean and worthy at your feet. {Kneels beside her chair 
and puts his arm around her.) 

Clare (hides her face in her hands). No, no; I cannot. 

Bruce. You don't care for me? 

Clare {still hiding her face, shakes her head). Yes. 

Bruce. Then that settles it. You've got to take me. 
Listen, dear. You shall not go back there to meet their 
accusations alone. When you go, I go with you. From now 
on you belong to me. 

Clare {rises). Oh, no, please; I must go back right away. 

Bruce {holding her hands). You are going to do just as 
I tell you, little girl, for within an hour you will be Mrs. 
Bruce McCulloch. 

Clare. Within an hour — what do you mean? 

Bruce. I mean my man is now getting the car out to 
drive us to the next town, where there's a minister who 
will marry us before you have time to change your mind. 

Clare. But it is near midnight. 

Bruce. That doesn't matter a huckleberry. He's a sec- 
ond cousin of my friend Seabury's, and I know him well 
enough to make it all right. Besides, he has a charming 
little wife who will take you under her wing as soon as she 
sees you. Williams is going along as a witness. 

Clare. Oh, but you are so quick — I can't think. 

Bruce. That's right, dear ; don't think. In taking a hus- 
band or buying a horse, just shut your eyes and trust to 
luck. I'm going to make you very happy, little girl. I'm 
going to take you away from this place. We are going to 
travel. You're going to see all the beautiful places you've 
been longing to. Come, Clare, don't you think you are going 
to like it — just a little bit? 

Clare. Oh, yes ; it would be wonderful ; but I must not 
listen. I cannot be your wife I know nothing of the big 
world to which you are accustomed. I would shame you. 

Bruce. No, dear, you would shame me for my worldli- 
ness, my conceit, my unworthiness. As for you, I can teach 
you the little things that will be expected of you. 

Clare {turning to him). You will teach me? 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 43 

Bruce (holds out his arms to her). I will teach you, 
Clare. 

Clare {going into his arms). Then I- will come. {He 
holds her in his arms until curtain.) 

CURTAIN. 
Second Curtain. 
Williams enters R., remains inside door. 
Williams. The car is ready, sir. (Bruce zvraps Clare's 
cloak around her and leads her off L., Williams fol- 
lowing.) CURTAIN. 



Act IV. 

Scene: Same as Act I. 

Curtain up. Heine is leaning against the sideboard, his 
arm full of plates. He is sound asleep. 

Enter Sara, R. U. E. She carries a dish and sets it on 
table, R. 

Sara Heine! (Heine drops plates, rubs his eyes and 
yazvns ) You are just out of bed and now you are asleep 
again. Didn't I tell you to set the table? Go ahead now or 
not a bite will you get in this house this morning. {Exit 

R. U.E.) „ , • 1 • ' 

Heine. Aw, lemme alone. I'm all the time a-workm. 
(Begins to pick up plates, dropping them occasionally. At 
last he gets them on the table, accidentally puts his hand on 
/?v paper; is surprised to find it there. Tries to get rid of it, 
pulling it from one hand to the other; then puts his foot on 
if it sticks to his foot, he gets it off with the other foo ; 
takes it off his shoe with his hand; it sticks to his hand; he 
Puts it on the chair and sits on it, looscmng it from Ins 
hand; he gets up from chair, the fly paper sticking to his 
trousers; he thinks he has got rid of it and exits L. U. h.) 
Enter Sara. R. U. E., carrying another dish, places it on 

the table. . -r 

Sara Heine! Where is that sleepy head?^ I wonder if 

he has gone back to bed again. {Calls through 7.'mdozv.) 



44 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

Heme! And you, too, Elsie; come here. (Returns down 
stage to table.) He makes that Elsie as bad as himself. 
Enter Heine and Elsie, L. U. E. 

Sara. Here, you two ; you must help some ; I can't do 
everything. Do you want grandma to die and go to heaven ? 

Heine. Yes'm. 

Sara. What! 

Heine. No'm. 

Sara. So that is it. My grandson tells me I should die 
and go to heaven. 

Heine. Well, you don't want me to tell you to go to the 
other place, do you? You ain't never satisfied. 

Sara. Elsie, you go upstairs and tell Mr. Joyce and Clare 
to come to breakfast. (Goes to R. U. E.) Come; you hear 
me? 

Elsie. Yes'm. (Sara exits R. U. E.) 

Heine. Elsie, you musn't always say yes'm to Grandma. 
That ain't nice ; she don't like that. 

Elsie. What should I say, then? 

Heine. You should say, ''Sure, Mike." 

Elsie. Oh, she whip me. 

Heine. No, she won't ; she likes little girls that says 
that. When she tells you something again, you must say, 
"Sure, Mike." Do you hear? 

Elsie. Won't she whip me? 

Heine. No ; she'll give you a nice piece of- cake. You see. 

Enter David Joyce, follozved by Sara. R. U. E. Sara 
carries another dish and puts it on table. 

David. Good morning, children ; where is Clare ? 

Sara. Clare is not up yet. 

David. Then let Elsie go call her. 

Sara. Elsie, didn't I tell you to call Clare? 

Elsie (glances at Heine). Sure, Mike. 

Sara. What! (Elsie runs off R. U. E. To Heine.) 
You, Heine — you learn that child badness. 

Heine. Aw, you blame everything on me. 

David. Go, Heine,- and call old John for breakfast. 
Enter John, L. U. E. 

John. There is no need. I thought breakfast must De 



UXDKR BLUE SKIES 45 

ready. We are all late this morning, eh? Where is Clare? 

David. Clare sleeps late. Come, we will not wait for her. 
Let the child rest. (All about to sit at table. Elsie runs on 
from R. U. E.) 

Elsie. Clare is not in her room. {Every one is surprised.) 

David. What is that you say — Clare is not in her room? 

Elsie. She is not there. I went in the room and looked. 

David. Perhaps she was up early and went for a walk. 

Sara. I have not seen her, and I have been up since five 
o'clock. 

John. And I, too. She would have come by the garden. 

Elsie. Her bed is smooth. 

Sara. Her bed is smooth — she did not sleep in her bed 
last night? 

David. My God ! What can it mean ? 

Enter, L. U. E., Mrs. Weber and Oscar. They come 
down stage. 

Mrs. Weber. Mr. Joyce, I know this is early to make a 
visit, but the matter is so important that I could not wait. 

David. You know something of Clare, perhaps. 

Mrs. Weber. Yes, I am sorry that I should be the one 
to tell you what I know ; but before I go on, I should like 
the girl to be present herself. If what I say is not true, let 
her deny it if she can. 

David. We have just learned that my daughter is not 
here. 

Mrs. Weber. What! Where is she, then? 

David. That is what I hoped you could tell me. She must 
have gone away last night. 

Mrs. Weber. Oscar, you hear that? She has not been 
home yet. 

David. If you know where my daughter is, Mrs. Weber, 
I beseech you to tell me. 

Mrs. Weber. Where she is now I cannot say, but late 
last night she was in the rooms of that stranger, Mr. Mc- 
Culloch. My Oscar was there; he can tell you. 

David (to Oscar). What — you saw her? 

Oscar. No, she was hidden behind the curtains, but I 
had followed her to the gate and saw her enter. Then I 



46 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

went for Miss Warren because I had promised to warn her 
when I saw them together again. 

David. Was Miss Warren there also ? 

Oscar. Yes ; she went with me. We almost had to force 
our way in. When we asked him about Clare, he denied 
that she was there. But she ivas there, and she was there 
when we left. 

Mrs. Weber. And she has not been home all night ! 

David. Mrs. Weber, what you say seems terrible, but I 
will not condemn my daughter on your say-so. I would like 
to speak with Miss Warren. 

Mrs. Weber. I thought you would not believe us, so I 
asked Miss Warren if she would come along. She was 
willing enough to come, but that brother of hers met us and 
would not let her enter. 

Oscar. She promised to wait outside, though. Perhaps 
if you ask her she will come in. 

David. John, ask Miss Warren to enter. (Old John 
exits L. U. E.) 

Mrs. Weber. Of course, Mr. Joyce, you must appreciate 
the position — 

David. Silence, woman. I will hear Miss Warren first. 

Enter Edith and Dick, L. U. E. Old John enters L. 
U. E., hut remains up stage. Dick remains up stage, while 
Edith comes down C. 

David. Miss Warren, I beg you to tell me what you know 
of my daughter. 

Edith. I am very sorry to be called on to do this, Mr. 
Joyce, but I think you should know the whole story. I 
have been engaged to Mr. McCulloch for several months. 
Recently I learned he was coming regularly to this house. 
I came here one day to learn what the attraction was. I 
discovered that it was your daughter, Clare. Since then I 
have seen them often together, and last night, having been 
told by Mr. Weber that she had gone to his rooms, I, too, 
went there, and although we did not actually see her, I 
know she was there. On the strength of that I broke off 
my engagement with Mr. McCulloch. Mr. Weber and I 
left there together. 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 47 

Mrs. Weber. And what do you think, Miss Warren, she 
has not been home all night. 

Edith. What! 

David. And this man McCulloch. What sort of man is he ? 

Edith. I can only say that he has not acted in an hon- 
orable manner toward me. It is hardly likely that he will 
toward your daughter. 

Dick (coining quickly down C). Mr. Joyce, I didn't 
intend to mix up in this affair. I am here simply because I 
saw my sister coming with these people, and I thought I 
could prevent her making a fool of herself. / know Bruce 
McCulloch — as a man knows a man — and I give you my 
w^ord he is a gentleman and a man of honor. Your daugh- 
ter is as safe in his care as she would be under your own 
roof. 

David. God grant it be true ; but true or false, if m}' 
daughter has done wTong, the blame rests on me. She has 
grown like a wild flower, wnthout attention, wnthout care. 
As a parent I have neglected my duty and God has punished 
me for it. But if He will only give her back to me again — 
just as she was — 

Oscar {interrupts). She will never again be what she 
was — you can never bring her back to that. Your prayers 
and tears come too late. Your daughter will never again 
take her place among the young people of this village ; for, 
no matter what you say or do, Clare Joyce is an outcast. 

Bruce has entered L. U. E. on the last line of Oscar's 
speech. He now comes down C. 

Bruce. Clare Joyce is my wife! {Surprised ejaculations 
from everybody.) 

David. So you are the young man wdio can account for 
my daughter's w'hereabouts. 

Bruce. Mr. Joyce, to you I owe a thousand apologies 
for taking your daughter without either your knowledge or 
consent. I should have liked to have done the thing in a 
more becoming way; but these good people (indicating 
Oscar, Mrs. Weber and Edith) drove us into a corner, so 
to speak, and we had to take the only course left open to us. 
^'our daughter came to my house, in all innocence, last 



48 UNDER BLUE SKIES 

night, to ask me never to come here again. I was about to 
escort her home when Miss Warren and Oscar Weber 
made their appearance. I have loved Clare, I think, since 
the first day I met her ; but I was engaged to Miss Warren, 
and because of that engagement I had determined not to 
see Clare again. Last night, however, Miss W^arren volun- 
tarily released me from that engagement, and as I felt sure 
they would come here this morning, ready and willing to 
poison your mind against the girl, the only way to outwit 
them was to give Clare the protection of my name, and to 
bring her back here as my wife. Have I done right, sir? 
{Holds out his hand to David.) 

David (takes Bruce's hand). You have done what I 
should have done under the circumstances. (Sara and 
John are up stage R. Sara whispers to John. He nods 
and goes off R. U. E. She follozvs.) 

Dick (shakes hands with Bruce). Bruce, I'll bet on you 
every time. It breaks my heart that you're not going to be 
my brother-in-law, but I'll love you just the same. 

Edith. Dick, take me home. You can shake hands with 
this man who has thrown your sister over for a — 

Dick. Now, don't get your dates mixed. Sis. As I un- 
derstand it, you threw him over. 

Edith (to Bruce). So, you have made a pretty fool of 
yourself this time, Bruce McCulloch. 

Bruce (smiles at her). Well, I'm a happy fool ; so what's 
the odds? 

Edith. Come, Dick. (Exit, followed by Dick, L. U.E.) 

David. Where is Clare? 

Bruce. I left her in the garden among her flowers, while 
I came on to pave the way. She is just outside. I will call 
her. (Goes to zvindow, calls.) Clare, come. 

Clare enters through low window C; she runs impul- 
sively to David^ zvho clasps her in his arms. 

Clare. Father. 

David. Are you happy, Clare? 

Clare. Oh, so happy, that if it were not for those people 
(indicating the Webers) I would think I was in heaven. 
(David, Bruce and Clare are in close conversation down 
R. They pay no attention to the Webers.) 



UNDER BLUE SKIES 49 

Mrs. Weber. Oscar Weber, you are a fine man, I must 
say. I am ashamed of you. All her life that girl has been 
living next door to you, and you are such a dummy that 
you could not make her marry you. 

Oscar. That's your fault. If you had kept your hands 
out of it, and let me do my own love making, it would 
have turned out better ; but you always have to meddle. 

Mrs. Weber. That's right ; blame it on me. You should 
have gone about it like a man, and not like a booby. 

Oscar. That's just like you ; when you get things all 
mixed up, you blame others. 

Mrs. Weber. Come on home. There is no place for us 
here. (Goes up to L. U. E. Oscar follozvs; at the door 
they turn.) Good day, everybody. (They pay no attention 
to her.) I said, good day^ everybody. (Pause.) Come on, 
Oscar; some people have no manners. (Exit angrily, L. 
U. E.) 

Enter Sara and John, R. U. E. Sara has a big pound 
cake, puts it on table and cuts it. John brings on a bottle 
of zvine, gets glasses from sideboard and pours the zvine. 
Heine and Elsie bring flowers for the table. 

David. So you are no longer my Clare, but another's. 

Bruce (his arm around Clare). I hope you will forgive 
us, Mr. Joyce. 

Clare. Please, father, forgive us ; we will never do it 
again. 

David (laughing). Well, of course, under those circum- 
stances — 

Sara. Come, good people ; where there is a wedding, 
there must also be a wedding breakfast. Here is a fresh 
pound cake I baked for the church fair — 

John. And here is some home-made wine that is just as 
good as champagne. Come, fill your glasses and we will 
drink a toast. {All take a glass of zvine, standing.) 

David. What is the toast ? 

All. To Clare. May she always live under blue skies. 
(A Zi'edding march is flayed as curtain descends.) 

CURTAIN. 



The Women Who Did 

By MARY WOLCOTT GREEN, A. B. Regent, Staten Island Chap- 
ter, D. A. R. 

Price, 25 Cents 

Dramatic entertainment for women, historical and patriotic; 
17 females. Time, 1 hour. A beautiful, instructive and interest- 
ing play in which great women of history appear. Easy to pro- 
duce. Instructions are given for making the costumes at home 
with little expense. The author has produced it many times with 
great success at D. A. R. entertainments. It is suitable for al- 
most any occasion. 

"A clever and unique entertainment was given by the Staten 
Island Chapter D. A. R. on Friday evening. The main feature 
was a play, 'The Women Who Did.' The characters representing 
women of many centuries and countries, formed a living picture, 
while the dialogue was bright and true to history." — Staten Is- 
land Star. 

The Fifteenth of January 

By LINDSEY BARBEE. 

Price, 25 Cents 

College comedy, 3 acts; 11 males, 10 females. Time, 2i/4 hours. 
Scenes: 1 interior, 1 exterior. Characters: Jack Wilson, an army 
officer. Dick Sherman, who becomes Peter, a deaf mute. Count 
Cassavelh, an Italian adventurer. Prof. James, Prof. Burton and 
Ted Allen, of the faculty. Billy, Chuck, Tom and Don, students. 
Frank, a little brother. Barbara, whose specialty is Billy. Doris, 
an heiress. Elsie, from Butte. Ruth, Dolly and Polly, lively stu- 
dents. Tabitha, a college gossip. Sally, from next door. Mrs. 
Meredith, an ambitious mother. Maggie, a servant. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I — Billy is despondent. "Don't flunk, Billy." Barbara to 
the rescue. The plot. Dick resolves to become a deaf mute with 
the name of Peter. An ambitious mama. "Money to burn!" The 
promise. Story of the Prince, Princess and Dragon. "And they 
lived happily ever after!" 

Act II. — A deaf mute who hears and sees. Lip language and 
love. Tabitha becomes suspicious. Billy wins the game for tlie 
team. Jack wins Doris' promise to wed him on the Fifteenth of 
Januar^T "Why did you choose that date?" "Can't you trust 
me?" Dick betrays himself. "I cheated, not Billy!" Jack's I. 
O. U. The Count plays his trump card. Doris repudiates Jack. 
"I am announcing my engagement to Count Cassavelli." 

Act III. — The Count's board bill. The Count discusses art and 
money with Elsie. "Stop your kidding. Count!" Ruth reveals her 
secret. "I think I love him!" Dick wins Ruth. Ted pleads with 
Barbara. "The Princess will not send away the Prince." Ta- 
bitha's revelation proves a surprise to the Count. "The truth, 
every word of it." The agreement. "And vou will come to mo." 
"On the Fifteenth of January!" 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



The Kingdom o£ Heart's Content 

By LINDSEY BARBEE. 

Price, 25 Cents 

College comedy, 3 acts; 6 males, 12 females." Time, 2% hours. 
Scenes: Easy to set. 1 exterior, 1 interior. Characters: Tom 
Lansing, Miles Arden, law students. Sidney Hilton, a student card 
sharp. Billy Merrill, a little freshman. Ralph Lawrence, a foot- 
ball coach. The Burglar. Millicent, in search of her Prince. 
Eloise, a devotee of art and adjectives. Gretchen, who wants to 
grow up. Dixie, a Southern coed. Madge, Shirley, Frances, Amy, 
Pauline, Judith, other lively coeds. Mrs. Wilberton, Tom's aunt. 
Tilly, the German maid. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I.— Gretchen objects to being treated like a child. Virtues 
of strawberry pop. Golf and art. A novelist seeking inspiration. 
News of the Burglar. Miles mistaken for the Burglar. The rec- 
ognition. 

Act II.— Millicent seeking for a Prince to lead her into the 
Kingdom of Heart's Content. Billy falls into evil ways The trick 
play. Hilton steals it. Betrayal of the college team, the accusal. 
Tom admits his guilt to save Billy. Shunned and deserted. "Poor 
Milly." 

Act III. — Difficulties of love making. Amv indignant. "I'll 
stand by the team to the bitter end!" Blotter reveals the traitor. 
Hilton routed. Dixie surrenders her heart to Miles. Millicent 
finds her Prince. The college team's victory. All ends happily. 

A CoUei^e Town 

By WALTER BEN HARE. 

Price, 25 Cents 

College farce comedy, 3 acts; 9 males, 8 females. Time, 2^/4 
hours. Scenes: 2 interior, 1 exterior. Characters: Jimmie, a rah- 
rah boy. Tad, the college cut-up. Leviticus, the ace of spades. 
Major Kilpepper, head of the military. Popp, professor of phil- 
ology. Scotch, football captain. Shorty, the ubiquitous freshman. 
Billy, of the Glee Club. Twiggs, of the faculty. Miss "Jim," 
the girl from Dixie. Marjorie, the college widow. Ma, a pop- 
ular landlady. Jane Cavendish, from Wall St. Mrs. Popp, a 
faculty type. Mrs. Stiles, a honeymooner. Miss Twiggs, a relic 
of other days. Mrs. Twiggs, a motherly old soul. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — Eight a. m. in a college boarding house. Marjorie, the 
ever blooming college widow. A college spread, pillow fight and 
quadrille. "For the honor of old Bexley!" The fatal frat pin. 

Act II. — "When one is on the faculty some things must be 
done sub rosa." "Howdy-do Prexy; isn't this a beamish even- 
ing?" The major proposes. The real Aunt Jane arrives. 

Act III. — The side lines at a foot ball game. "If the last half 
goes anything like this one, I'll have to write home to Grandma." 
The two Aunt Janes. "He's within a yard of the line." "For 
the honor of Bexley." Miss "Jim" remembers her promise. 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



The Altar of Riches 

By CHARLES UURICH. 

Price, 25 Cents 

Comedy of American finance, 4 acts; 5 males, 5 females. Time, 
21/^ hours. Scenes: 2 interiors. Characters: Charles Wilberforce, 
a financial king. Samuel Thornton, a Wall street banker. Thomas 
Seward, a jobber on 'Change. Robert Fitzgerald, an attorney. 
Walker, a butler. Gwendolyn Mordaunt Austin, an heiress. Lucile 
Harcourt, a novelist. Harriet Bosworth. of the New York news 
service. Maria Stanford Walton, an unfortunate woman. Made- 
line, a maid. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — Madeline objects to being pumped. The letter. "Wil- 
berforce shall be our hero." A newspaper woman on the trail of 
a story. The agreement to fight a battle in Wall street. "Be- 
ware a day of judgment." 

Act II. — The photograph. "Is she not Miss Austin, daughter of 
the Copper King?" Wilberforce avows his love for Gwendolyn. 
"You are a financial Diomedes and who knows I am not Hercules 
destined to bring you to judgment?" The dispatch. Gwendolyn's 
discovery. Her sorrow. "I did not know." 

Act III. — Gwendolyn leases the hotel wires and is master of 
tlie situation. The theft of the letters. The battle on 'Change. 
A light that cost Wilberforce a million. "I have been betrayed. 
Who are you? A woman's victory. "But I saved my father!" 

Act IV. — A stock jobber and novelist agree to unite their forces. 
A generous Wall Street king. The meeting. The rose. "He 
loves me." The reconciliation. Ulysses seeks Calypso. The be- 
trothal. 

The Road Adeni 

By CHARLES ULRICH. 

Price, 25 Cents. 
A dramatic western playlet; 3 males, 1 female. Time, 30 min- 
utes. The scene is laid in the west and the action deals with the 
fortunes of a woman whose husband, a road agent, is presum- 
ably killed by a Sheriff's posse. She weds thereafter and her for- 
mer husband unexpectedly returns. He is pursued by a Sheriff 
and killed. The Sheriff, who has knowledge of the woman's past, 
preserves silence and her husband is kept in ignorance of her 
secret. A big enough theme for a full evening play. 

Cornelia Pickle, Plaintiff 

By MAYME RIDDLE BITNEY, 

Price, 25 Cents. 

A burlesque trial for ladies: 15 females. Time, 40 minutes. 
Cornelia Pickle, a maiden lady of mature years, is heartbroken 
because the widow Helen Dashing has purloined the affections of 
her first and only admirer, one Josiah Judkins, and sues for dam- 
ages. The case greatly excites the inquisitive instincts of the 
feminine jurors and judge. There are rare touches of humor in 
the testimony for the widow, but "she is very, very nice," also 
in Cornelia's story of the injury and in the lawyer's plea to the 
jury. A clever satire on the new waman which will offend none 
and please all. ^ 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS. 

Price 15 Cents Each. Postpaid. Unless Different Price is Given. 



M. F. 

Documentary Evidence, 25 min. 1 1 

Dude in a Cyclone, 20 min.... 4 2 

Family Strik«k. 20 min 3 3 

First-Class Hotel, 20 min 4 

For Love and Honor, 20 min.. 2 1 

Fudge and a Burglar, 15 min.. • 5 
Fun in a Photogra'ph Gallery, 

30 min 6 10 

Great Doughnut Corporation, 

30 min 3 5 

Great Medical Dispensary, 30 m. 6 
<jreat Pumpkin Case, 30 min... 12 

Hans Von Smash, 30 min 4 3 

Happy Pair, 25 min 1 1 

I'm Not Mesilf at All, 25 min. 3 2 
Initiating a Granger, 25 min.. 8 

Irish Linen Peddler, 40 min... 3 3 

Is the Editor In? 20 min 4 2 

Kansas Immigrants, 20 min,... 5 1 

Men Not Wanted, 30 min 8 

Mike Donovan's Courtship, 15 m. 1 3 

Mother Goose's Goslings, 30 m. 7 9 

]\Irs. Carver's Fancy Ball, 40 m. 4 3 
Mrs. Stubbing' Book Agent, 30 

min 3 2 

!My Lord in Livery, 1 hr 4 3 

My Neighbor's Wife, 45 min... 3 3 

My Turn Next, 45 min 4 3 

My Wife's Relations, 1 hr 4 6 

Not a Man in the House, 40 m. 5 

Obstinate Family, 40 min 3 3 

Only Cold Tea, 20 min 3 3 

Outwitting the Colonel, 25 min. 3 2 

Pair of Lunatics, 20 min 1 1 

Patsy O'Wang, 35 min 4 3 

Pat, the Apothecary, 35 min... 6 2 

Persecuted Dutchman, 30 min.. 6 3 

Regular Fix, 35 min 6 4 

Rough Diamond, 40 min 4 Z 

Second Childhood, 15 min 2 2 

Slasher and Crasher, 50 min... 5 2 

Taking Father's Place. 30 min.. 5 3 

Taming a Tiger, 30 min 3 

That Rascal Pat, 30 min 3 2 

Those Red Envelopes, 25 min. 4 4 
Too Much of a Good Thing, 45 

min 3 6 

Treasure from Egypt, 45 min. 4 1 

Turn Him Out, 35 min. ....... 3 2 

Two Aunts and a Photo, 20 m.. 4 

Two Bonnycastles, 45 min 3 3 

Two Gentlemen in a Fix, 15 m. 2 

Two Ghosts in White. 20 min.. 8 

Two of a Kind, 40 min 2 3 

Uncle Dick's Mistake, 20 min.. 3 2 

Wanted a Correspondent, 45 m. 4 4 

Wanted a -Hero, 20 min 1 1 

Which Will He Marry? 20 min. 2 8 

\yho Is Who? 40 min 3 2 

Wide Enough for Two, 45 min. 5 2 

Wrong Baby, 25 min 8 

Yankee Peddler, 1 hr 7 3 



VAUDEVILLE SKETCHES. Ik-ON- 
OLOGUES, ETHIOPIAN PLAYS. 

M. F. 

Ax'in' Her Father, 25 min 2 3 

Booster Club of Blackville, 25 m.lO 
Breakfast Food for Two, 20 m.. 1 I 

Cold Finish, 15 min 2 1 

Coon Creek Courtship, 15 min.. 1 1 
Coontown Thirteen Club, 25 m. 14 

Counterfeit P.ills, 20 min 1 1 

Doings of a Dude, 20 min . 2 1 

Dutch Cocktail, 20 min 2 

Five Minutes from Yell College, 

15 min 2 

For Reform, 20 min 4 

Fresh Timothy Hay, 20 min... 2 1 
Glickman, the Glazier, 25 min.. 1 1 
Handy Andy (Negro), 12 min.. 2 

Her Hero, 20 min 1 1 

Hey, Rube! 15 min 1 

Home Run, 15 min 1 1 

Hot Air, 25 min 2 1 

Jumbo Jum, 30 min 4 3 

• Little Red School House, 20 m. 4 

Love and Lather, 35 min 3 2 

Marriage and After, 10 min... 1 
Mischievous Nigger, 25 min... 4 2 

Mistaken Miss, 20 min 1 1 

Mr. and Mrs. Fido, 20 min.... 1 1 
Mr. Badger's Uppers, 40 min.. 4 2 
One Sweetheart for Two, 20 m. 2 

Sshkosh Next Week, 20 min . . 4 
yster^ Stew, 10 min 2 

Pete Yansen's Gurl's Moder, 10 

min 1 

Pickles for Two, 15 min 2 

Pooh Bah of Peacetown, 35 min. 2 2 
Prof. Black's Funnygraph, 15 m. 6 

Recruiting Office, 15 min 2 

Sham Doctor, 10 min ..4 2 

Si and I, 15 min 1 

Special Sale, 15 min 2 

Stage Struck Darky, 10 min... 2 1 
Sunny Son of Italy, 15 min... 1 

Time Table, 20 min 1 1 

Tramp and the Actress, 20 min. 1 1 
Troubled by Ghosts, 10 min... 4 
Troubles of Rozinski, 15 min.. 1 
Two Jay Detectives, 15 min... 3 

Umbrella Mender, 15 min 2 

Uncle Bill at the X'audeyille, 15 

min 1 

Uncle Jefif. 25 min 5 2 

Who Gits de Reward? 30 min.. 5 1 



A ireat number of 

Standard and Amateur Plays 

not found here are listed ia 

Denison's Catalo({ue. 



T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, 154 W. Randolph St.. Chicago 



POPULAR ENTERTA 

Price, Illustrated Paper Co 




T.S.DEN1$0N 

PUBUSHER OaCACO 



¥N this Series 
are found 
books touching 
every feature 
in the enter- 
tainment field. 
Finely made, 
good paper, 
clear print and 
each book has 
an attractive 
individual cov- 
er design. 



DIALOGUES 

All Sorts of Dialogues. 

Selected, fine for older pupils. 
Catchy Comic Dialogues. 

New, clever; for young people. 
Children's Comic Dialofiues. 

From six to eleven years of age. 
Dialogues from Dickens. 

Thirteen selections. 
The Friday Afternoon Dialogues. 

50,000 copies sold. 
From Tots to Teens. 

Dialogues and recitations. 
'Lively Dialogues. 

For all ages; mostly humorous. 
When the Lessons are Over. 

Dialogues, drills, plays. 
liVide Awake Dialogues. 

Brand new, original, successful. 

SPEAKERS. MONOLOGUES 

Choice Pieces for Little People. 

A child's speaker. 
The Comic Entertainer. 

Recitations, monologues, dialogues. 
Dialect Readings. 

Irish, Dutch, Negro, Scotch, etc. 
The Favorite Speaker. 

Choice prose and poetry. 
The Friday Afternoon Speaker. 

For pupils of all ages. 
Humorous Monologues. 

Particularly for ladies. 
Monologues for Youn^ Folks. 

Clever, humorous, original. 
The Patriotic Speaker. 

Master thoughts of masterminds. 
The Poetical Entertainer. 

For reading or speaking. 
Pomes ovthe Peepul. 

Wit, humor, satire; funny poems. 
Scrap-Book Recitations. 

Choice collections, pathetic, hu- 
''i morous, descriptive, prose, poe- 
try. 14 Nos., per No. 23c. 




Tht .... .^riil Book. 

Very popular drills and marches. 
The Favorite Book of Drills. 

Drills that sparkle with originality. 
Little Plays With Drills. 

For children from 6 to 11 years. 
The Surprise Drill Book. 

Fresh, novel, drills and marches. 

SPECIALTIES 

The Boys* Entertainer. 

Monologues, dialogues, drills. 
Children's Party Book. 

Plans, invitations, decorations, 

games. 
The Days We Celebrate. 

Entertainments for all the holidays. 
Good Things for Christmas. 

Recitations, dialogues, drills. 
The Little Folks, or Work and Play. 

A gem of a book. 
Little Folks' Budget. 

Easy pieces to speak, songs. 
One Hundred Entertainments. 

New parlor diversions, socials. 
Patriotic Celebrations. 

Great variety of material. 
Pranks and P.astimes. 

Parlor games for children. 
Shadow Pictures, Pantomimes, 

Charades, and how to prepare. 
Tableaux and Scenic Readings. 

New and novel; for all ages. 
Twinkling Finders and Swaying 

Figures. For little tots. 
Yuletide Entertainments. 

A choice Christmas collection. 

HAND BOOKS 

The Debater's Handbook. 

Bound only in cloth, 50c. 
Everybody's Letter Writer. 

A handy manual. 
Good Manners. 

Etiquette in brief form. 
Private Theatricals. 

How to put on plays. 
Social Card Games. 

Complete in brief form. 

MINSTRELS. JOKES 

Black American Joker. 

Minstrels' and end men's gags. 
A Bundle of Burnt Cork Comedy. 

Monologues , stump speeches, etc. 
Lau^bland, via the Ha-Ha Route. 

A merry trip for fun tourists. 
Ne^ro Minstrels. 

All about the business. 
The New Jolly Jester. 

Funny stories, jokes, gags, etc. 

Lar^e Illustrated Catalogue Free. 



T. S. DENISON & COMPANY. Publishers, 154 W. Randolph St.. Chicago 



